Ls     i      &T>Lt     JA/&1&4 


I 


AND 


OTHER   POEMS. 


OM  MANI-  PADME  HUM.-BUDDHA 


BY 


S.  M,  BISBT. 


NEW  YORK  : 

BROWN    &    DERBY,    PUBLISHERS 
1883. 


•• 


Copyright,  1883,  by 
H.  M.  BIEN. 


qjgs^ 

I 


ERRATA. 


In  consequence  of  the  great  distance  from  the  author  to  the 
place  of  publication,  the  following  errors  remained  uncorrected  : 
Page  38,    line    9  read:     "  Chasidim  "   instead  of    "the  Chasi- 

dim." 

"     38,     "     19      "         "  That  parents "  instead  of  "  And  par- 
ents." 

"     46,      "     16      "         "  and  there  "  instead  of  "and  then." 
"     49,      "     16       "         "concocted    rash"    instead    of    "con- 
cocted " 

"     57,     "     12       "         "concocted   rash"   instead  of    "con- 
cocted." 

9       "          "  curst  "  instead  of  "  cursed." 
7       "         "  curst  "  instead  of 


52, 
54, 
78, 


78 

78 
79 

125 
132 


15 

16 

7 

14 
15 


add 
read 


cursed." 

"was   bereft    a   mother"    instead    of 
"  mourns  her  lost — a  mother." 

"  a  yearning  mother  "  instead  of  "  be- 
reft a  mother." 

"  moans  "  instead  of  "  mourns." 

"Rest    in     peace!     all"     instead    of 
"  Reste  in  pace.'* 

dash  after  "  Ghetto." 

"  Till  its  abode,  if  "  instead  of  "  Until 
its  abode." 


A42791 


nru 


to 

(Benerous  Subscribers 

WHO 
HAVE   SO   KINDLY   ENCOURAGED    ME 

TO 
COLLECT   THESE   STRAY    RHYMES   OF   MY   LEISURE, 

AND 
TO     THE     INTELLIGENT     READING     PUBLIC     AT     LARGE, 

ALL  OF   WHOM   WILL,    IT    IS   HOPED, 
PATIENTLY     BEAR     WITH     THEIR     MANY     DEFECTS, 

THIS  VOLUME 

IS   RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS. 


PROEM, 


ORIENTAL    LEGENDS. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  HEART, 

THE  CREATION  OF  MAN,    . 

THE  CREATION  OF  WOMAN,  .     . 

PARADISE  LOST  AND  REGAINED, 

THE  FIRST-BLOWN  ROSE,  .... 

SOLOMON'S  JUDGMENT,        .... 

KING  AND  PROPHET, 

JOCHANNAN  BEN  SAKKAI,  .        .        .        . 
THE  BEST  AND  THE  WORST, 
DOG,  HORSE,  AND  HOG,     . 

REDEEMED, 

AQUA  VIT^E  ;  Or,  The  First  Delirium  Tremens, 
TORTURE  (monologue  from  Drama  "  Genius"''), 
THE  ACCEPTED  PLEDGE,  . 


STREET    PICTURES. 


STREET  PICTURES, 


LYRIC    TRIFLES. 

SONNET, 77 

IN  MEMORIAM — Adolph  Cremieux,  Life-Senator  of  France,      78 

JUDGE  NOT,  CONDEMN  NOT, 79 

THINK  OF  IT, 80 

IN  MEMORIAM — William  Cullen  Bryant,      .         .         .         .82 
NECRODULIE — Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow,     .  -83 

THE  DEAD  RABBI — Rev.  Dr.  Max  Lilienthal,     .         .         .     84 


CONTENTS. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  JEWELER,     . 

ADIEU,  ADIEU  !    I  GAVE  THEE  UP, 

To  THE  MEMORY  OF  A  DEPARTED  FRIEND, 

NIL  DESPERANDUM, 

I  THINK  OF  THEE,  I  THINK  OF  THEE, 
To  LOVE  AND  BE  LOVED  IN  RETURN, 
To  LOVE  IN  VAIN — WHAT  AGONY  !  . 
SONG  (from  the  Drama  "Genius"),     . 
SONG  (from  the  Drama  "Samson"),     . 
FOURTH  OF  JULY,  1861,     .... 


PAGE 

87 
88 
89 
90 
92 
93 
94 
95 
96 

97 


OTHER  POEMS. 

YAH  !  YAH  ! 101 

BANKRUPT, 109 

SUNSET  ON  MOUNT  DAVIDSON,  .        .        .        .        .        .112 

TlCONDEROGA  CENTENNIAL,        .        .        .        .        .        .  115 

SERIOUS  MISTAKE 117 

WASHINGTON'S  JUDGMENT, 119 

THE  WHITEWASH-BRUSH 122 

NEIR  TOMID, 124 

FEBRILE  FRENZIES 130 

THE  GERMAN  VOLUNTEER  (1862), 141 

A  COURT  SCENE, 143 

REMORSE,     ..........  147 

NEVER,  NEVER,  NEVER  ! 148 

A  CENTENNIAL  POEM — 1876, 150 

THE  COLLECTOR'S  WIFE 153 

THE  RUSSIAN  EXILE, 157 

THE  ORPHAN  ASYLUM  IN  VIENNA 163 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  DIAMOND,         .....  166 

URIEL  DA  COSTA 168 

A  DOCTOR'S  PANEGYRIC, 171 

AN  APPEAL  TO  AMERICA  AGAINST  SECTARIAN  AGITATIONS,  176 


EPITOMA  JUDAICA. 
DEDICATORY  ADDRESS,       .... 


.  181 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


/  have   read  your  various  "  Oriental  Legends"  with  great 
interest  and  pleasure. — H.  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


THIS   blank  sheet  of  writing-paper 
At  which   I   now  careless  glance, 
Half  in   dream   and  half  in   trance, 

Serves,   perhaps,  as  toy   or  taper, 
At  the    will  of  fate   or  chance. 

In   the   cause  of  God   or  devil 

It   may   work   for  good   or  evil- 
Truth   proclaim   or  ignorance. 

* 

Or   may   be   a   merchant  failing, 
Stays   his   ruin   yet  awhile 
With   this   scrap  and    by   his  guile. 

Nay,   some   prisoner  at  the   railing 
Trusting   Mercy's  hopeful  smile, 

Feels  his   heart  sink,  deathly  smitten, 

When  the  jury's  verdict,  written, 
By  this  paper,  goes  on  file. 

Or  perchance  some  bashful  lover, 
With  a  trembling  or  a  frown, 
Tries  to  write  his  passion  down; 

Or  the  leaf  becomes  a  cover 


IO  PROEM. 

For  some  trick  of  rogue  or  clown, 
It  has  power  to  bind  and  sever, 
To   enslave  or  free  forever, 

Sink  or  raise  a  realm   or  crown. 

Who,  who  dare  claim   the  decision 
Its  true   purport  or  its  way 
To  predict,  or  guess,  or   say? 

Such,  ha,  ha!    is   human   vision! 
Speculate  as  e'er   we   may, 

It  ends  most  like   this  in   vapor  ; 

Served  already  has  the  paper 
For  a  Minstrel's  roundelay. 


4j)t[ienhil 


' 


THE    BIRTH    OF    THE    HEART. 

HAVE  ever  you    heard    the    tradition    of 
old, 

Amongst  the   Orientals   often  told, 
How  that  beautiful  part, 
The   human   heart — 

Heaven's  own   image   and   counterpart, 
Angelic  essence,  spirit  and   mould- 
Was   wrought  at  the  final   hour  of  creation, 
Idea  sublime,  God's  best  inspiration  ? 

The  story  is  certainly  good   to  repeat ; 

And  thus  it  doth  run :  All  fair  and  complete, 

The  universe  stood, 

In   the  attitude 

Of  youth   and   perfection,  grand   and   good. 
The  Sabbath  approached.    At  the  Maker's  feet, 


12 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


In  clay,  stood^  the  form   of  Adam   created  ; 
The  breath  of  life   he  only  awaited. 

The  angels  to  whom    had   been  assigned 
The  forming  of  first  of  humankind,  , 

With  pride  and  zest 

Had  done  their  best 

To   make  him   superior  to  all   the  rest — 
Perfection,  use,  and   beauty   combined. 
Alas!    the   most  vital   part,  they  lamented, 
Had  been  forgotten ;    too   late  they  repented. 

The  heart  they  omitted  !    In  trouble  and  shame 
Bowed  down  before  the  Almighty,  they  came. 
"  How   shall   we  atone 
For  duty   undone?" 

Then   spake   the   Lord:    "Peace,  every  one! 
Go  gather  quick,  in    My  holy   name, 
What   fragments   are    left    from    My  six    days' 

labor." 
Each  joyfully  hastened  away  with  his  neighbor. 

And   presently  every  one   returns 

In   hope  that  speed   forgiveness  earns. 

And   such  a  string 

Of  scraps  they  bring, 


R 


:- 


BIRTH  OF  THE  HEART. 


Incongruous  and   everything. 
It  seems  they  gathered  from  endless  concerns 
Abundance  of  stern  and  grotesque   material, 
Solids  and   fluids,  gross  and  aerial. 

One   brought  of  lion's  pomposity, 
Another  of  tiger's  ferocity; 

With  jackal's  greed, 

And  antelope's  speed, 

Courage  and    pride  of  the   wilderness'   steed  ; 
The   fox's  guile,  the   wild  goat's  glee, 
The   serpent's   cunning,   the    lamb's    mild    fea- 

tures — 
The  virtue  and   vice  of  all  living  creatures. 

The   song  of  the  birds,  the   howl  of  the  wolf; 
The  ripple  of  fountains,  the   roar  of  the  gulf; 

The  flowers'  perfume  ; 

The  smell  of  the  tomb  ; 

The  light  of  the  sun  and  dark  night's  gloom  ; 
With   acid   muriatic  and    nitric  and   sulph., 
Heat  of  the  flame  and   glaciers  frozen  — 
Of  life  and   death   some  each   had   chosen. 


m< 


The   Lord   in   mercy  and   kindness    smiled 
When   He  saw  what   was  brought  to   His   hu- 
man  child  ; 


14  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

And   He   added   Love — 
Bright,  shining  dove  !— 

Strengthened   by  Hope   for   here   and  Above, 
And   covered   the   whole   with   Charity  mild ; 
Then    breathed    in    man's    nostrils    the    life    he 

awaited. 

And    Sabbath    had    come !      The    World    was 
created  ! 


Thus  runs  in  tradition  the   legend   of  old, 
Amongst  the   Orientals  often  told: 

How  that  beautiful  part, 

The   human   heart — 

Heaven's  own  image  and   counterpart  ; 
Its  angel  essence  and   spirit  and    mould, 
Idea  sublime,   God's  best  inspiration- 
Was  wrought  at   the  final   hour  of  creation. 


THE    CREATION   OF  MAN. 


THE    CREATION    OF    MAN. 

u  And   Elohim  said,   Let   us  make   man    in    our   own    image    and 
likeness." — GENESIS  i.  26. 

FROM    out   the    quaint   Agadah  *    of    old 
Talmudic  fame 
This    mystical     tradition     of    man's    creation 

came  : 
In    six    days   were    completely   the   earth   and 

heaven   made, 

With    all    their  hosts— " And   very   good    they 
are  !  "   the   Lord  hath   said. 
Entire  the   work   is  done, 
Except  the   final  one— 
That   one   in  whom   without  a   doubt   it   shall 

be  demonstrated  : 

He   is   the   crown    and    masterpiece  of  every- 
thing created. 

Then  each  celestial  legion,  the  angels  far  and 

,    near, 

Immediately    were    summoned    for   council    to 
appear. 

*  The  legendary  part  of  the  Talmud. 


1 6  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

Harmonious    ring  hosannas   in   welling,   swell- 
ing tone, 

Till   music  fills  the  endless  sphere,  when  God 
spake  from  His  throne : 

"  My  will,  My  scope  and   plan, 
It  fits:    let  Us   make  man! 

To  rule  the  world  and  all  thereof  'tis  My  ma- 
ture reflection  ;' 

But  whosoever  choose  may  urge  now  any  fair 
objection." 


Forthwith     entreated     Justice,    whose     words 

like   prayer  seem  : 
"  Thy  wisdom,  Heavenly  Father,  in  all  things 

is  supreme ! 
But   man  called    to  existence    will   right  defy, 

and    oh  ! 
With    cruelty,    wrong,    and    lawlessness,    with 

anguish,  tears,  and   woe, 

The  guiltless  earth   he'll  fill  : 
Therefore  abide  Thy   will ! 
Ah!  keep  unstained  this  perfect  world,  whose 

beauties  are  unnumbered  ; 
Create  him  not,   nor  mar  nor  spoil  this  globe 

by  man   encumbered." 


) 

THE  CREA  TION  OF  MAN.  I  7 

The    angel    Truth    next    uttered    this   earnest, 

fervent  plea  : 

"  We  all  submit  devoutly  to  Thy  divine  decree. 
O  Father!  wherefore  wilt  Thou  not  from  this 

work  abstain? 

For  man,  when  once  created,  will  never  more 
\  refrain, 

With   calumny  and  lie, 
Thy  kingdom   to  defy  ; 
Veracity  from   earth    will  part,   and   happiness 

will  vanish. 

Create   him    not!     Thus    falsehood   Thou   wilt 
from    creation    banish! 


Now    Freedom    quick    stepped    forward    and 
pleaded    piteously  : 

"  If  Thou,  O  God  !   must  fashion  this  man,  let 
me  first  die  ; 

For  in  his  wake  are  coming  destructive,  crush- 
ing trains — 

Oppression,  tyranny,  and  slaves  with  shackles, 
bonds,   and   chains. 

His  advent  sure  will  stay 

On   earth   Thy  glorious  sway." 


i  g  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


All  Heaven  seemed  moved  at  these  sad  words, 
tearful  exclaimed  and  kneeling : 

"Create  him  not!  leave  man  undone!'' — thus 
Liberty's  appealing. 


There  was  a  hush  of  silence,  as  from  the  fore- 
most band 

A    trio   of    seraphim    came    forward,    hand    in 
hand  ; 

Like  symphonies  resounded  sweet  their  united 
prayer : 

"Create,   O  Lord!   create  Thou  man;  entrust 
him   to  our  care. 

Untired  and   firm,  though  mild, 
We'll  ever  lead   Thy  child 

From  sin  and   error  of  the   earth,  high  to  sal- 
vation's region. 

Create  him,  Lord  !  "   thus  loud  implore  Love, 
Faith,  and   Hope — Religion. 


From  dust  of  earth  Elohim  formed  man,  to  end 

this  strife. 
And  then  into  his  nostrils  God   breathed    the 

breath  of  life. 


THE  CREATION  OF  WOMAN.  19 

In  his  own  image  and  likeness  created  Adam 

He: 
And  blessed  him   with  dominion  o'er  the  land 

and   o'er   the   sea  ; 

Endowed    him    most  sublime, 
To   reach   his  goal   betime, 
Ordaining    that    humanity    in    holy    troth     be 

plighted 
To  Justice,  Truth,  to  Freedom,  Love,  to  Faith 

and    Hope   united. 


THE    CREATION    OF    WOMAN. 

THUS  runs   the   parable  the  rabbins  have 
related 
How    in    the    world's    beginning   woman    was 

created : 

"  It  is  not  good  that  man  should  be  alone," 
The   Lord  said,  as    He   summoned    to    His 

throne 

The  hosts  of  Heaven.    "  Adam  must  be  mated  ! 
God  and  two  loving  hearts  alone  shall  be 
but  One." 


20 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


And  then  was  brought  before  the  angels  with- 
out  number 
Adam,  the  first  of  man,  in  deep  and  death  like 

slumber. 

To  every  human  part  was  speech  supplied, 
For  each   to  state  which  one  should  make 

the  bride. 

They  must,  however,  not  God's  plan  encumber, 
Her  truly  to   become   his  helpmate,  friend, 
and  guide. 

Now  Heaven  was  filled  with  loud  and  eloquent 

recitals 
Of  heart  and  brains,  of  trunk  and  all  the  limbs 

and  vitals. 
Each  one    most   fervent    urged    his   special 

cause, 

As   litigants  obscure  or  unmade   laws. 
Such  stretched  importance,  claims,  unheard-of 

titles ! 

One  would  have  thought   the   world   with- 
out them  came  to  pause. 

At  last,  when  vanity  and  self-praise  long  had 

spoken, 
A    rib    stood    bashful   forth    and    plead :    "  I'm 

but  a  token 


THE  CREA  TION  OF  WOMAN.  2  I 


Of  modest   merit,  trying  by  the  grace 
Of  Thee,  my  Maker,  to  fill  out  my  place  ; 
I  know  that   I   must  bend,  or  will  be  broken; 
Submission    is   my  claim,   unselfishness    my 
case." 

"  Thou  art  the  chosen ! "  spake  the  Lord,  "  and 

here    I    shower 
Upon    thee    all     man's    highest    concentrated, 

power." 

One  touch  of  His  creative  hand  did  weave 
Such  beauty,  grace,  such    love,  strength   to 

believe, 
Such   amiability,  a   woman's  dower, 

That  all  celestials  sang  hosanna — born  was 
Eve. 

Then  Adam  woke,  and  there  beheld  with  dazed 

sensation, 

His    loving,    longing,     fervent,    erst    imagina- 
tion ; 

The  being  comely,  modest,  pure,  and  fresh, 
Into   his  arms  entwines  as  in  a   mesh. 
4<  Thou  mother   of   all  future  generations, 
Bone  art  thou  of  my  bone,"  he  cries, ."  flesh 
of  my  flesh  !  " 


22 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


Thus    runs   the    parable  the   rabbins   have   re- 
lated, 
How    in    the   world's    beginning    woman    was 

created. 
And   God    blessed    marriage,   and    this    law 

He  gives: 

That  man  his  father  and  his  mother  leaves; 
And  when  two  hearts  in  love  are  truly  mated, 
They  One   become,  as  each  unto  the  other 
cleaves. 


PARADISE    LOST    AND    REGAINED. 

MOST  tender  of  stories  the   East  has  re- 
tained, 

How  Eden  was  lost  once  and   fully  regained. 
Inscribed   in  their  lore-books,  they  always   in 

dite  it 

The  song  of  "  Sweet  Home !  "  and  they  often 
recite  it. 

For  primal  transgression  were  banished  precise, 
The  first  of  our  parents  from   out  paradise. 
An  angel  came  quickly,  expelling  the  mortals, 
His  sword,  with   its  flaming  sweeps,  guarding 
the  portals. 


i£J&r** 


PARADISE  LOST  AND  REGAINED.  23 

Forlorn  and   bewildered,  and   all  in  despair, 
Stood,  weeping  and  moaning,  the  desolate  pair. 
Now    Adam    exclaimed    loud :    "  From    Eden 

drove  hither, 
Where    shall  we    find    comfort?   go  whither — 

oh  !  whither  ?  " 


And   Eve  on   his  bosom   did   pitiful  cry : 
"  Alas !  disobedient  and  sinful  was   I." 
As  thus  they  lamented,   the  angel  felt  sorry 
To  see  them  thus  troubled,  to  hear  them  thus 
worry  ; 

And  slowing  the  swing  of  his  glittering  blade, 
In  mildest  of  accents  he  unto  them  said  : 
"Bewail  your  apparent  misfortune  no  longer; 
Submission  and  patience  make  all  of  us  stronger. 

"  Resign  ye  the  loss — by  God  it  was  planned. 
Now  make  you  an  Eden  yourself!  Understand, 
No  matter  how  poor  and  no  matter  how 

wealthy  ; 
No  matter  how  suffering,  ill,  or  how  healthy  ; 

"  No  matter  the  distance,  condition,  or  time, 
And  spite  of  all  hardships  of  seasons  or  clime  ; 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

No  matter  what  Providence  fates  for  to-mor- 
row, 

Come  tears  or  come  smiles,  come  joy  or  come 
sorrow  ; 

"  Wherever  you  wander  and  whither  you  roam, 

Your  Eden  you'll  find  where  you  build  up  your 
home — 

A  home  filled  with  quiet,  with  peace,  and  con- 
tentment, 

Without  the  arch-tempter,  the  serpent  Resent- 
ment ; 

"  A  home  which  is  filled  with  the  purest  of  love, 
With  best  gift  of  Eden — the  trust  in  Above." 
So  spoke  the  kind  cherub !     They  listened  as- 
tonished ; 

In  heart  and  in  soul  they  felt  strong-,  thus  ad- 
monished. 

Thus  regained   for  man   is,  by  angel's  advice, 

The  Home  !  May  God  bless  it — the  lost  Para- 
dise ! 

From  th'  East  to  the  West,  by  all  nations  des- 
canted, 

The  song  of  "  Sweet  Home  "  will  forever  be 
chanted. 


THE  FIRST-BLOWN  ROSE. 


THE   FIRST-BLOWN   ROSE. 


I. 

IT  is  not  every  one  who  knows 
How  erst   bloomed    forth  the  first  blown 

Rose, 

As  sung  in  grove  and  told  in  tent, 
A  legend  of  the  Orient ; 
Still  cherished  as  in  by-gone  times. 
Thus  run  the  rhythm  and  the  rhymes : 
Where  the  desert  meets  the  mountain  rising 

from  the  burning  sands, 
Faraway  from  palm  and  lotus,  crippled,  dwarfed, 

a  thorn-bush  stands. 
Never  had  a  flower  opened  from  beneath  its 

twigs  or  leaves ; 
Covered  with  the  dust  of  ages,  droopingly  it 

sways  and  grieves. 
From  afar  and  from  anear 
It  must,  humbled,  mutely  hear 
Taunt  and  spite,  and  sore  reproaches  of  luxu- 
riant oasis ; 

From  the  haughty  Leb'non  cedars  to  the  tini- 
est valley  daisies. 


20  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

II. 

'Tis  even-tide.     The  Occident  glows. 
Now  big  dew -tears  the  foliage  throws 
On  parched  roots  which  claw  the  rocks, 
When  far  away  the  bleat  of  flocks 
Wakes  faint  the  echoes  from  the  height, 
From  whence  a  man  appears  in  sight. 
Tenderly  the  shepherd  carries  on  his  breast  a 

little  lamb 
Which  had  strayed  and  would  have  perished, 

separated  from  its  dam, 
Had  not  lovingly  its  guardian,  Moses,  safely 

borne  it  hence. 
Then  it  was  resolved  in  Heaven,  by  decree  of 

Providence  : 

Who  such  tender  mercy  shows 
To  dumb  creatures'  need  and  woes, 
Sure  is  fit  for  greater  labor;  his  shall  be  the 

high  commission, 

That  he  lead,  from  Egypt's  bondage,  Isr'el  free 
to  noblest  mission. 


in, 

As  down  the  steep  declivity 

The  Hebrew  prophet  comes,  lo  !  see, 


THE  FIRST-BLO  WN  ROSE.  2  7 

At  Horeb's  base,  the  strangest  fire ! 
It  burns  and  burns,  nor  does  expire ; 
Nor  does  consume  a  single  rush ; 
Nor  smoke  exhales  the  flaming  brush ! 
Exodus,  the  whole  third  chapter,  this  event  in 

Holy  Writ, 
Full    of    highest    inspiration,    hath    recorded, 

grandly  fit : 
Miracles   wrought    here   at   nightfall,   stay  of 

some  of  Nature's  laws, 

These     sublime    events    foreshadowed     Free- 
dom's origin  and  cause. 
First-blown  Rose,  traditions  say, 
Graced  the  bush  at  dawn  of  day ; 
And  its  glorious  seed  grew  ever,  envy  of  all 

vegetation. 

Desert-born,  it  blooms,  an  emblem  :  Heaven's 
true,  love  for  God's  own  nation. 


28  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


SOLOMON'S   JUDGMENT. 

THE    holy   tabernacle,  the   people's  outer 
court, 
Is   thronged,   for  all  Jerus'lem    is    wild    with 

strange  report. 
Yet  soon  the  stirred  commotion  subsides  and 

all  bend  low- 
King  Solomon  is  coming  in  royal  pomp  and 
show. 


The  silver  horns'  alarum  proclaim  in  clarion 
tone: 

His  majesty  for  judgment  ascends  his  father's 
throne. 

No  precedent  had  ever  the  case  he  is  to  hear ; 

Before  the  high  tribunal  two  women  do  ap- 
pear. 

One  brings  in  court  an  infant — a  lovely,  living 

child, 
Sublimely   personating    all    that  is   pure    and 

mild. 


^»— »f 


SOLOMON'S  JUDGMENT. 


The  other,   too,   she  carries  a  boy,  but  he  is 

dead  — 
Like  envy  and  disappointment  is  drooping  low 

her  head. 

"  My  Lord,  oh  !  give  me  judgment,"  she  with 

the  corpse  exclaims  ; 
"  This   wicked   woman   weeping,  her   sex  and 

nation  shames. 
One     dwelling     since    Passover    we    occupied 

alone, 
And    both    became    there    mothers   ere    yet  a 

month  was  gone. 

"  Imagine,  then,  my   terror,   at   break   of   day 

this  morn, 
Awaking    from    my   slumbers    I'd     nurse   the 

newly-born  ; 
I  find   this  choked,  dead   bastard   right   lying 

on  my  arm- 
Exchanged  she  had  the  infants  :   her  own  did 

meet  with  harm  !  " 

Thus  hoarse,  yet  loud,  she  clamors,  in  attitude 

to  wrest 
The    suckling    who  is  closely   hugged  to  the 

other's  breast. 


30 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


But    the  accused  sobs  broken :  "  O  king  !    do 

hear  me  plead  ! 
This   is   my  own,   believe    me — my  flesh    and 

blood  indeed." 

"  The  little  one — behold  him  !  How  sweetly— 
see,  he  smiled  ! 

Oh !  surely  thou  wilt  never  bereave  me  of 
my  child  ?" 

"  Thy  child  !  No,  mine  !  "  alternate  vociferous 
they  repeat. 

But  now  the  king  bids,  "  Silence !  "  while  ris- 
ing from  his  seat. 

A  bodyguard    he  summons :     "  Both   children 

take,  and  hew 
Them  firmly  with  thy  broadsword,  for  Justice 

sake,  in  two ; 
And  give  to  each  her  portion — the  living  one 

slay  first." 
"  So  mote  it  be ! "  cries  boldly  the  one  who 

spoke  out  erst. 

According  to  the  mandate,  the  soldier,  though 

he  shakes, 
His  weapon  raised  already,  the  weeping  infant 

takes. 


SOLOMON'S  JUDGMENT.  3  I 

"  Have  mercy  !  "  cries  the  other  ;  "  give  her 
the  live  child — stay  !  " 

"  No,"  quoth  the  first,  "  divide  them  ;  let  Jus- 
tice have  her  sway." 

"  Hold,  hold  !  "  commands  the  sovereign.     He 

gladly  was  obeyed  ; 
And    from  the  throne  descending,  to  her  who 

kneels  he  said, 
While  in  his  arms,  moved  deeply,  the  babe  to 

her  he  bore : 
"Thou   truly   art   his   mother!      I  doubt  thy 

claim  no  more. 

"  Here,  take  thy  son  !  "  The  people  shout  till 
the  air  did  ring: 

"  Hail !  God  hath  given  wisdom  to  Solomon, 
our  king ! 

Thrice  hail !  He  hath  established  the  law  di- 
vine Above : 

It  shall  be  known  for  ever  a  mother's  heart 
and  love !  " 


Ikr- 


- 


32  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


KING   AND    PROPHET. 

"Come  now  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord:  Though  your 
sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  become  as  white  as  snow  ;  though  they  be  red 
like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool." — ISAIAH  i.  18. 


I. 

YON   in   his    blood    lies    welt'ring   a  noble 
warrior  slain, 
Betrayed  by  royal  sycophants,  a  hero  in  their 

craven  train  ; 
Unto   his   wife    the  sovereign   adulterous  love 

has  nursed, 

Therefore    Uriah   needs   must  die,  but  David 
lives  disgraced  and  cursed. 

II. 

The  misled  woman  sobs,  all  fears, 
Uncomforted,  in  floods  of  tears  : 
"  I  loved  him,  heart  and  soul,  alone ; 
My  grief  will  not  my  guilt  atone." 

Since  David  in  her  arms  reposed 
Sleep  never  has  his  eyelids  closed  ; 
A  bloody  shadow  of  affright, 
A  spectre  haunts  him  day  and  night. 


KING  AND  PROPHET. 
III. 

Crowned  and  sceptred  sate 

In  the  temple's  gate 
David  as  judge — in  Hebrew,  "  Shofet." 

He  and  the  people  behold, 

In  dignity  of  old, 
Nathan,  the  aged  seer  and  prophet. 

Cries :  "  Whom  wrongs  aggrieve 

Justice  must  receive, 
King! — for  this  are  kings  appointed. 

List,  then,  to  my  case, 

Heartless,  vile,  and  base, 
And  redress  it,  Lord's  anointed! 


IV. 


"  Sire,  there  lives  within  thy  realms 
One  whom  fortune  ever  favored, 

But,  though  wealth  him  overwhelms, 
Greedy,  he  has  never  wavered 

To  envy  his  poor  neighbor's  share — 

An  only  lamb,  his  love  and  care. 

4 


• 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

"  Guests  came  to  the  miser  ;  hence, 
Spite  remonstrance,  spite  of  tear, 

He  forthwith,  on  some  pretence, 
All  that  to  the  poor  is  dear 

Kills;  the  cherished  pet  it  died. 

Sire,  thy  judgment  I  abide." 

Wild  with  indignation  cries 

David,  rising  :  "  Here  I  swear 

The  villain  who  hath  done  this  dies  ; 
Let  his  goods  the  pauper  share  !  " 

"  King  !  thou  art  that  man  !  "  the  seer 

Answers.     "  Be  accursed  for  e'er  !  " 


V. 

Ah  !  Death  spares  not  youth  and  never  minds 

age; 

A  beggar  he  smote  on  the  street,  and  since 
He  gathered  a  fool  and  garnered  a  sage, 
And  from  David's  palace  he  snatched  him 
a  prince. 

The  stricken  parents  stand  by  the  corse, 

Lamenting  and  weeping  in  anguish  and  fear; 

Royalty  harrowed  with  deepest  remorse, 
His  eyes  overflowing  with  tear  upon  tear. 


KING  AND  PROPHET. 


35 


But  all  at  once  a  sudden  impulse 

Comes   o'er  the   father;    he   kneels    by  his 

dead. 
The    heart  which  revolted,  his  feverish  pulse, 

Grow  quiet,  and  upward   his  gaze  is  led. 

Resigned,  he  folds  his  hands  and  prays: 

"  Heavenly  Father,  deign  list  to  my  word  : 

Sinner  I  am,  and  just  are  Thy  ways, 

Yet   deal    with   me   merciful,  Lord,    O    my 
Lord ! " 

The  prophet,  behold !  he  stands  by  his  side 
And  bids  him  arise,  for  God  commands. 

Curses  are  powerless  when  we  confide 

In    Providence ;    trustful   raise   hearts   and 
hands. 

Exalted  the  king  and  consoled  he  became, 
Exclaiming  these  words  immortally  graced  ; 

"  The  Lord  hath  given  and  taken ;  the  name 
Of  the  Lord  forever  and  ever  be  praised  !  " 


36  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

JOCHANNAN  BEN  SAKKAI. 

A   HISTORICAL  SKETCH. 
I. 

THAT    was    the   strangest   fun'ral    which 
ever  was  beholden 
Among  the  Hebrew  people  of  modern  times 

or  olden. 
No  crowd   of    mourners    follow,    nor  music's 

muffled  strain. 

Two  students  lift  the  coffin,  one  Rabbi  heads 
the  train. 

From  the  city  of  disaster 
They'll  carry  out  the  master. 
Ben    Sakkai — woe !    the  priest  is  dead !      The 

sad  report  goes  quickly  out, 
'Midst  siege  beyond,  turmoil  within,  and  gen'ral 

broil  and  crazy  bout. 

Young  Joshua  and  El'asar  bear  the  pall  with  all 
that's  mortal ; 

Batiach  old,  the  comrade  true,  leads  to  the  for- 
\/ 

tress  portal. 


JOCHANNAN  BEN  SAKKAI. 
II. 


37 


Up  to  the  gate  portcullised  the  burden  slow 

is  carried  ; 
But  there  the  sent'nel  halts  them,  who  rather 

not  had  tarried. 

"  My  orders  are  that   nothing   must  pass  be- 
yond the  wall, 

Except  I  be  permitted  to  first  inspect  it  all." 
The  leader,  disappointed, 
Exclaims  :  "  The  Lord's  anointed, 
When  dead,   who  dares  defile  by  touch,  he  is 

accursed!     Come,  let  us  go." 
"  Move  on !   move  quick !  "  rejoins  the  guard ; 

"  my  nose  tells  all  I  need  to  know." 
Slow   they   proceed   till   soon   is   reached   the 

gate ;  then,  like  forsaken, 
They  hurry  to  the  Roman  camp,  where  they 

are  captives  taken. 


in. 


Vespasian  here,  the  gen'ral,  for  months  has 
grimly  striven 

To  crush  the  hated  Hebrews,  to  fierce  sedi- 
tion given, 


38  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

With  battering-rams  and  siege-trains  bombard- 
ing day  and  night 

Strong-fortified  Jerus'lem,  who  resolute  makes 
fight. 

But  inside,  mad  contention, 
Fanatical  dissension  ; 

The  sects  and  clans  rage  blind  and  tear  the 
suffering  people  all  apiece. 

The  Chasidim*  and  the  Sadducee,  the  Naza- 
rene  and  Pharisee — 

Each  one  strives  for  the  mastery,  to  bring  the 
others  under; 

While    outside   steadily  the   foes   against    the 
city  thunder. 


IV. 

In  vain  appeal  the  starving  for  bread  or  for 
surrender ; 

Despair  and  hunger  vainly  implore  in  tones 
most  tender; 

And  parents  their  own  children  in  frenzy  slay 
and  eat, 

And  babes  suck  on  dead  mothers,  their  nour- 
ishment to  meet. 

< 


JOCHANNAN  BEN  SAKKAf. 


39 


Forsooth!  as  in  all  ages, 
Prophetical  the  sages 
Proclaim    such    folly's    certain    end,    and    cry 

aloud  :  "  For  God's  sake  stay 
This  fratricidal,  murd'rous  feud,  nor  let  your 

passions  reign  or  sway  ; 
Appease  at  once  the  conqueror,  outside,  while 

yet  in  season." 
But  who  has  ever  known  wild  mobs  like  these 

to  value  reason? 

v. 

When  baffled  in  all  efforts  to  have  his  warning 
heeded, 

To   squelch   rebellion   and   restore   the    union 
sadly  needed  ; 

When    foiled    in    every    measure   to   stay  the 
wrath  to  come 

By  flattering  the   enemy,  their  mighty  foe  of 
Rome, 

At  last  the  high-priest  wily 
A  way  devises  slyly 

By  which   he'll   save   himself  and   people,   al- 
though he  sees  the  horror  all, 

Sees   Isr'el's    nationality,   her    glory,   and   her 
Temple  fall. 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


Tis  patent  in  her  hare-brained  strifes,  'tis  by 

her  seers  written  : 
"  So  shall  their  mission  be  fulfilled  !  so  be  her 

folly  smitten!" 


VI. 


Approved  in  sacred  council,  his  death  is  soon 
reported  ; 

He's   laid   into  a   coffin  and   out  of  town   es- 
corted. 

And   so  that  the  deception  in  detail  be  com- 
plete, 

He    suffers    that   beside   him    is    placed    some 
putrid   meat. 

Most  killed  by  suffocation, 
Yet  soon  his  restoration 

In  their  besieger's  camp  is  slow  but  fully  by 
kind  hands  attained, 

While   officers   and  soldiers   laugh,   nor   silent 
would  be  or  restrained.  * 

Forthwith    the    resurrected    corpse    into    the 
gen'ral's  presence 

Is  led  to  make  his  errand  known,  its  meaning 
and  its  essence. 


• 


J  0  CHA  NNA  N  BEN  SA  KKA  I. 


VII. 


4  1 


"  Know,   chieftain  !    paper    arrows   were    shot 

thee  from  our  city 
My    prophecy    conveying  —  remember    it,    I 

prithee  ! 
Our  God  hath  pleased  to  forestall  through  me 

that  thou  shalt  reign 
The  world  as  Latin  emperor  ;  now  let  me  not 

in  vain 

Beseech  thee  for  this  favor." 

Thus  plead,  all  in  a  quaver, 

The  tottering,  white-haired,  aged  priest:  "  Give 

us  permission  now  to  go 
Unto  the  town  of  Jabne,  where  we'll  hide  away 

from  shame  and  woe 
Thou    bringest    on    our   people   sure.       Have 

mercy,  Caesar  —  ora! 
Let  me  establish  there  a  school  to  teach  our 

holy  Torah."  « 


VIII. 

The  Roman  mused  a  minute  ere,  deeply  moved, 

addressing 
The  captives  ;  he  salutes  them  :  "  Give,  Rabbins, 

me  your  blessing; 
5 


42  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

Your  modest  wish  is  granted ;  now  go  ye  hence 

in  peace, 
And  that  your  work  may  prosper,  my  prayer 

shall  never  cease." 

Soon  after  they  departed  : 
The  Talmud-school  was  started, 
It  rose  and   flourished  grandly,  too,  as  hist'ry 

does  explicit  tell, 
A  bulwark  to  their  people,  who  had  seen  how 

shrine  arid  city  fell. 
The  first  of  the  "*  Ta-na-im  "  *  here  have  taught 

what  was  most  needed, 
A   codex    for  all   Isr'el,  which  has  never  been 

exceeded. 

IX. 

Empires  have  risen  and  fallen  ;  cities  were  built 

and  destroyed ; 
Nations  have  flourished  and  withered ;  war  and 

peace  were  employed, 
Generation  after  generation,  to  shape  and  form 

incessant 
The   status   of  society,   the    future,    past,   and 

present. 

• 

*  The  experts  and  transmitters  of  the  oral  law  at  the   time  of  the  second 
destruction  of  the    Temple  are  called  the  "  Tanaim." 


-  -: 


THE  BEST  AND  THE  WORST.        43 

But  nothing-  more  conclusive 
In  all  proved  so  conducive 
For  e'er  to  lead  the  human  race  unto  its  final, 

noble  goal, 
To  prop   up  tolerance  and   truth   and   elevate 

the  human  soul, 
Than    law,   philosophy,    and    rules,  as    taught 

here  and  expounded, 
The    heirlooms   from  the   "Jabne"    school  by 

this  Ben  Sakkai  founded. 


THE    BEST    AND    THE    WORST. 
EARCH  the  bazaar,"  said  the  sheik  to 


s 


^_/     the  slave, 
"  And  get  me  the  Best  which  the  markets 

provide." 
The  slave  salamed  lowly,  the  slave  answered 

grave : 
"  Thy  will  shall  be  done  ;  in  my  judgment 

abide," 
And    soon,  on    returning,    said  :    "  Rightly    or 

wrong, 
I  bring  here  the  Best  of  the  market — a  tongue." 


-ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

"  Search   the   bazaar,"  said    the    sheik   to   the 

slave, 
"  And  get  me  the  Worst  which  the  markets 

provide." 
The  slave  salamed  lowly,  the  slave  answered 

grave  : 
u  Thy  will  shall  be  done  ;  in  my  judgment 

abide," 
And   soon,  on    returning,   said :    "  Rightly   or 

wrong, 
I    bring    here    the    Worst    of   the    market— a 

tongue !  " 


"  Explain  what  thou  meanest!"  cried  the  sheik 

to  the  slave. 
"  I'll   give  thee    thy  freedom   if  well   thou 

decide." 
The  slave  salamed  lowly,  the  slave  answered 

grave : 
"  Thy    will   must   be   done ;    my  judgment 

abide. 
Now    listen     and    say    if     I'm     right     or    if 

wrong : 
The  Best  and  the  Worst   in  the  world  is  the 

tongue. 


THE  BEST  AND  THE  WORST, 


45 


•'  The  tongue  to  a  freedman  quick  changes   a 

slave  ; 

The     tongue     enslaves     quickly    the     free, 
though  he  died  ; 

The  tongue  rules   the   world,  from    cradle   to 

grave  ; 

The   tongue    sways   the   khedive   and  beg- 
gar beside." 

"  Thy  tongue  made  thee  free !      Thou  argued 
it  strong," 

Laughed  the  sheik.     "  The  Best  and  the  Worst 
is  the  tongue  !  " 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

DOG,    HORSE,    AND    HOG. 

AN  EASTERN  FABLE. 


GOOD 
_i     a 


OOD  neighbors  and  friends  were  a  horse 

and  a  dog. 

Not  far  from  them  wallowed  a  fattening  hog. 
The  first  two  were  regularly  fed  thrice  a  clay, 
While  the  sow  is  allowed  to  munch  all  that 

she  may. 
Said  the  cur  to  the  horse  :  "  It  seems  not  to 

me  fair 
That  the  swine  should  eat  more  than  belongs 

to  its  share." 

The  stallion  replied  :  "  Wait  a  little,  my  friend  ; 
Thou'lt  see  we  fare  best  by  our  stint  in  the 

end." 
The  piggy,  well  fattened,  soon  proved  this  no 

lie, 
Was  brought  to  the   shambles,  and  then   had 

to  die. 
When,   seeing  the  carcass  hung  up,  then  the 

dog 
Did  never  more  envy  the  luck  of  a  hog. 


REDEEMED. 


REDEEMED. 

ARABIAN  TALE. 

A  YOUTH  there  lived  whom  Fortune,  oft 
called  blind, 

Gave  all  her  precious  gifts  of  form  and  mind, 
With  such  a  noble  heart  as  only  can 
Make  Heaven's  fair  image  of  a  mortal  man. 
And  everybody  eagerly  pretends 
To  love  him — all  profess  to  be  his  friends. 
Alas !  this  changed.      Into  temptation's  power 
He  fell,  and  sinned  in  an  unguarded  hour. 
If  keenest  agony  atones,  then  sure 
Heaven    hath    received    his    contrite   heart  as 

pure. 

But  then  our  hypocritic,  callous  world 
Its  verdict,  "  Guilty,"  quick  upon  him  hurled. 
Each  ringer  points  at  the  condemned;  all  eyes 
Frown  on   him,  humiliating,  worldly  wise. 
For  consolation  to  his  mates  he  flees  ; 
They  knew  him  only  in  his  luck  and  glees. 
One  recognized  him — ah  !  with  such  a  face 
As  showed  the  great  and  condescending  grace; 


48 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


O'erwhelms    him — fie  upon  it! — with  the  price 
Of 'shamming  friendship,  so-called  good  advice. 
Next  his  affianced  love  bade  him  to  go, 
Inflicting  on  his  heart  most  crushing  blow. 
Faint,    writhing   and    convulsed,    damned    and 

decried, 

To  his  parental  roof  he  homeward  hied. 
Report,  the  ever-busy,  meddling  dame, 
Who  circulates  and  magnifies  our  shame — 
She    went    before     him.       On    the    threshold 

stands 

His  aged  father,  stern,  with  trembling  hands; 
He   bids  him,  "  Hence  !  I've  lost  my  son,"  be 

told: 

"  As  his  did  mourn  the  Patriarch  of  old, 
As  Jacob  wailed  his  loved  Joseph's  doom, 
Uncomforted  I'll  go  into  my  tomb." 
The    youth    drops    staggering ;    but    in    fond 

embrace 
Is    caught,    and    kisses    deck    his    death -pale 

face. 
With  tears  they're  mingled,  and  the  cry  sobbed 

wild: 

"  Oh  !  can  a  mother  e'er  forsake  her  child  ?  " 
Both  kneel.     The  father,  too,  no  longer  stands 
Unmoved  ;  he  lifts  and  wide  extends  his  hands, 


49 

And  blesses  them  in  pious,  good  old  ways. 
"  My  lost  is  found  again  !  "  he  mildly  says. 
Thus  was  one,  else  from  sin  to  crime  depraved 
A  suicide,  or  worse,  redeemed  and  saved 
By  that  great  power,  equalled  but  Above— 
A  mother's  tender  and  undying  love. 


AQUA  VIT^E; 

OR,   THE  FIRST  DELIRIUM   TREMENS. 

KNOW  ye  the  antique  record    how   erst 
into  this  world 
The   direst   of  all   curses,   King  Alcohol,  was 

hurled? 
And  how  the  Fates  avenged  it  in  body,  heart, 

and  soul 

On  him  who  first    concocted    th'    intoxicating 
bowl  ? 

The  night  was  dark  and  chilly,  the  storm  made 

heaven  weep, 
While  all  but  crime  and  suffering  were  wrapt 

in  dreamful  sleep  ; 

6 


'  t  h 


50  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

Then     in     his    laboratory — yon     subterranean 

space- 
An  Alchemist  wrought  misery  e'er  since  upon 

our  race. 

Around,  rich  candelabra  pale  rays,  blue  tinted, 

shed  ; 
The    hoary,   pensive    student    has    leaned    his 

withered   head 
Against  a  solid  column  of  cross-bones,  skulls, 

and  books, 
While  on  a  burnished  hour-glass  he  has  bent 

his  anxious  looks. 

All   treasures   life   doth    offer   he  sacrificed  as 

naught ; 
His   golden   locks  untimely  are    bleached    by 

ceaseless  thought. 
For  day  and  night  he's  prying  into  forbidden 

lore  ; 
He  fain  would  solve  the  mystery,  that  death 

should  be  no  more. 

And  hark  !  the  dome  serenely  aloud  proclaims 

the  time. 
Twelve    peals    the    echo    vibrates    like    some 

weird,  ghostly  chime  ; 


I 


AQUA    VITAL.  51 

With  its  last  sound  the  student  is  hastening 
to  and  fro, 

A  beverage  to  distil  and  boil  above  the  em- 
bers' glow. 

'Tis  the  decisive  moment — the  midnight  hour. 
On  high 

He  lifts  a  brimful  goblet,  and  spills  some  drops 
thereby  ; 

The  flames  are  whirling,  whizzing,  while  caba- 
listic words 

He  mutters,  and  strange  signs  describes,  and 
hell  and  heaven  girds. 

The  fire  transforms  its  colors,  a  halo  of  sweet 

light 
In   which  are    bands  of  angels  enveloped  fair 

and   bright ; 
And   strains   of    solemn   music,  breathed    like 

^Eolian  strings. 
A    monitor    of   good,  these    words   the   choir 

sublimely  sings  : 

"  Touch  not,  lift  not  the  poisonous  cup ! 
Taste  not,  drink  not  a  single  drop  ! 
Man's  life  is  dark, 
Yet  breaks  a  spark 


52  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

Into  his  future,  decked  by  night ; 

Faith  with  strong-  wing, 

And   Hope  the  eternal  beacon-light, 

From  death  its  sting,  from  death  its  sting 

Long  since  did  sever  ! 

This  is  true  blessing  ;    oh,  beware  ! 

Whoever  durst 

Attempt  to  'scape  his  mortal  share, 

He  shall  be  cursed  !   forever  cursed  ! " 

Then   dies   away   the    music   and    pales   again 

the  fire, 
But  in   his  breast  burns  fiercer  the  student's 

wild  desire  : 

He  fills  anew  the  goblet  with  bold,  defying  mien, 
The  flames  stirred  up  take  human  form,  dark 

as  the  night  has   been. 

Satire  and  wile  and   cunning  are  twinkling  in 

his  eyes; 
Thus  must  have  looked  the  tempter  when  in 

the  snake's  disguise. 
The  student  even  trembles  and   utters  loud  a 

shriek, 
But    "  Silence !  "    bids    the    spirit ;    he  thus    is 

heard  to  speak  : 


v 


AQUA 

"  Man  !  know  thy  father's  name  is  lust, 

Thy  mother's  baptized  weakness  ; 
They  glare  to  Heaven,  but  the  dust 

They'll  share  in  perfect  meekness  ; 
And  their  begotten  offspring's  fear, 

On  Hope's  sweet  bosom  nourished, 
Led  to  Religion's  taming  bier, 

A  germ  dead  ere  it  flourished. 
'Tis  thee !  'tis  thee  !  like  them  thou  diest, 
If  thou  not,  brave  and  bold,  defiest 
Those  hands  which  chain  thee  to  death's  brink, 
Then  drink!  drink  deep  !  drink  ever!  drink!" 

And  with  satanic  laughter  the  phantom  dis- 
appears. 

The  Alchemist  is  startled  ;  his  blood  and  brains 
and  tears 

Seem  melted  as  by  fire  ;  he  loud  and  wildly 
laughed, 

The  goblet  then  defiantly  he  emptied  in  one 
draught. 

Without,    the    storm     is    raging ;    each    angry 

thunderbolt 
Hurls  flash  on  flash  of  lightning — a  nocturnal 

black  revolt ; 


*  ^^p^ 
!^T 


54 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


Then    sad    through   night  and    weather  sound 

like  a  dying  moan 
These   words   into  the   student's  ear  again,  in 

plaintive  tone: 

"  Whoever  durst 

Attempt  to  'scape  his  mortal  share, 
He  shall  be  cursed  !    forever  cursed  !  " 

The  draught  thus  won  at  midnight,  consumed, 

its  power  reveals, 
And,  like  a  newly-born  one,   revived    the    old 

man  feels; 
At   last,  then,    his   ambition,   the   ideal   of  his 

strife, 
He  gloriously  now  has  attained  —  th'  Elixir  of 

human  life  ! 


Thenceforth   he    has    continued    to    mix,    boil, 

and  produce 
The  Alcohol  ;   to  his  pupils  he  taught  its  make 

and  use  ; 
And  with  the  new  discovery  all  o'er  our  globe 

they  went  — 
To  castles,   churches,   down    into   the    hungrv 

beggar's  tent. 


VIT&.  55 

So  time  passed  on.  Yet  never  from  the  de- 
cree of  fate 

Can  one  escape ;  for  certain  it  cometh  soon 
or  late  ; 

And  thus,  too,  found  the  student  his  final, 
dreadful  goal. 

'Tis  midnight.  Hark!  what  screams  and  yells 
through  storm  and  thunder  roll ! 

It  wakes  from   sleep  the  people,  it  rouses  old 

and  young  ; 
Unto      the      laboratory      bewildered      masses 

throng. 
And  they  behold  with  terror  what  man  ne'er 

saw   before — 
The  first  4<  Delirium    Tremens  "   there,  on   its 

most  hideous  score. 

The  ground,  a  raging  maniac,  his  limbs  in 
terror  smite  : 

Lo  !  from  his  lips  and  nostrils  break  flames 
of  purple  light : 

He  'gainst  the  block  of  granite  his  skull  con- 
vulsive throws, 

Until  his  blood,  from  gashing  wounds,  with 
brains  mixed,  fatal  flows. 


56  ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

Thus  died  he,  and  was  buried — none  knows 
his  grave  or  name, 

But  still  the  curse  eternal  has  been  his  awful 
fame. 

Where'er  his  poisonous  beverage,  the  Alco- 
hol, was  sent, 

It  sounds,  from  church  and  castle  down  to 
the  hungry  beggar's  tent. 


Widows,  orphans,  nations — all  curse  the  hid- 
eous deed, 

As  mothers  do  and  fathers  whose  hearts  were 
made  to  bleed  ; 

And  children  will,  while  hungry,  and  crying 
loud  for  bread  ; 

The  noble,  good,  and  pure — all  curse  the 
memory  of  the  dead. 

Well  known  is  yet,   however,   the  laboratory, 

where 
The  dram  was  first  discovered  ;  'tis  still  sold 

freely  there. 
The    subterranean   workshop     has    now    been 

.modernized — 
Yon  bar-room  'tis,  across  the  street,  so  much 

by  drunkards  prized. 


AQUA    VIT&. 


57 


They  are  the  student's  pupils,  who  nightly 
congregate, 

That  they  in  drunken  revels  his  doom  per- 
petuate : 

For  when  they  stagger  homeward,  sans  sense, 
and  none  be  near, 

Then  it  is  said  the  maniac's  ghost  doth  nightly 
there  appear. 

Through  all  the  evolutions  of  the  delirium 
he 

Must  pass,  a  horrid  spectre,  till  daylight  sets 
him  free ; 

And  God  in  Heaven  only  will  pardon  his 
offence 

When  the  last  inebriate  takes  the  vow  of  •  to- 
tal abstinence. 

This  is  the  antique  record,  how  first  into  the 

world 
The   direst  of   all   curses,  King   Alcohol,   was 

hurled  : 
And  thus  the  Fates  avenged  it  in  body,  heart, 

and  soul 
On  him  who   first   concocted   th'   intoxicating 

bowl. 
7 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 


TORTURE. 

f 

MONOLOGUE   FROM  DRAMA    "  GENIUS." 

THE  Buddha  tells  a  tale  which    runs  this 
wise  : 

Cruel  demons  will  mischievously  at  times 
Select  a  human  being  for  their  pranks. 
They  grant    him   all   the    gifts   of  which   are 

woven 

The  precious  jewel,  mortal  happiness  : 
They  grant  him  cruelly  all  but  one  ;  that  one 
Which  forms  the  culmination-point  and  centre 
Of  every  other — the   power  to  secure. 
His  prize  flits  by   him,  never  near  enough, 
In  spite  of  all  his  efforts,   to  be  grasped. 
They  starve  the  hungry  victim  'midst  of  plenty  ; 
They  parch  the  thirsty  lips  in  sight  of  foun- 
tains ; 

They  freeze  the  heart  in  midst  of  vernal  sun- 
shine ; 

They  scorch  the  fevered  brains  in  iciest  winter, 
Until  the  gods  in  mercy  interpose 


ACCEPTED  PLEDGE. 


59 


And  grant  him  the  possession  of  the  price 
Of  all  his  direful,  undeserved  suff'ring, 
Or   move    him   from    such    power    to    higher 
spheres. 


THE   ACCEPTED    PLEDGE. 

THE  B'douin's  keen-edged  cimeter  is 
As  cruel  as  lion  and  tiger  are. 
He'll  slay  the  men,  enslave  the  women, 
But  never  has  in  peace  or  war 
His  blade  denied 
By  blood  of  child, 
For  surely  cursed  were  he  and  his, 

Dared  he  to  brave  the  mythic  lore 
Which   every  Arab  knows  and  fears 

When  Allah  he  heeds  and  dreads  no  more. 

Thus  runs  pathetical  the  story  : 

When  his  ancestral  kindred  saw 
Themselves  released  from  Egypt's  bondage, 
Came  unto  Sinai  for  the  law ; 
Heard  was  a  cry 
Of  voice  on  High  : 


-••-"•/- 


ORIENTAL  LEGENDS. 

"  What  hostage  will  these  people  give 

My  revelation  and  commands 
That  they  will  cherish  and  obey,    <. 

If  I  shall  place  them   in  their  hands?" 

Then  in  the  council  of  the   nation, 

The  prophet  great,  the  elders   wise, 
They  offered   memories  hallowed, 

Progenitors  in   Paradise. 
Historic  claims, 
The  sainted  names 
Of  Abram,  Isaac,  Israel  ; 

But  not  sufficient  were  these  deemed. 
Birthright  does  not  avail  in  Heaven : 

Each   one   must  be  himself  redeemed. 

In  second   council  of  the  people 

They   all  unanimous  agree 
To  turn  bond   one  unto  another, 

Themselves  be  their  own  guarantee. 
This  sacrifice 
Would  not  suffice. 
For  they  were  told  in  language  plain, 

"  You  are  unworthy  and  untried- 
Men  who  proved  stiff-necked   and  uncouth, 

Already  have  the  laws  defied." 


ACCEPTED  PLEDGE.  6 1 

A  third   time  then  they  met  together, 

"  What  can  we  offer  loved  and  dear 
Which  unreserved   will  be  accepted 

Without  a  doubt,  without  a  fear? 
What  is  the  best, 
All  pure  and  blest, 
Such  as  we  cherish   more  than  life, 

By  which  our  hearts  and  souls  are  swept? 
Our  children  let  us  offer  ;  sure 

These  Justice  certain  will  accept." 

And  so  it  proved  !     The   bond  thus  given 

Abundant   was,  as  well  it  might. 
The  young  and  future  generations, 

On   Sinai  pledged  for  law  and  right, 
In  every  clime, 
Unchanged  by  time, 
Were  sacred   held  by  friend  and  foe. 

None   with  impunity  may  wrong 
The  children  ;  by  this  solemn  act, 

Unto  High  Heaven  they  all  belong. 


;-;  -----  •••- 


ORIENTAL    LEGENDS. 


WINE. 

A     TALMUDICAL     PARABLE. 

WHEN    God   the    grape   created,    every 
vine 

He   with   a  triple    tincture    fructified— 
With    blood    of  lion,  ape,    and    that  of  swine, 
Which  in   the  ripened  juice  three    proper- 
ties   supplied  : 

Drink  once  of  wine,  and  you'll  feel  strong 
and  bold, 

Combative,  brave,  without  discrimination ; 
You  fancy  strength  increased  a  thousand-fold, 

A  sovereign  king  of  all  the  animal  creation. 

Now    drink    again,  and   you    are   jolly,  glad; 

You    sing — it     sounds     like    braying    of    a 

donkey. 
You  jump  and  laugh  and  caper  ;   maudlin  gad, 

Behaving   like    unto   a    veritable    monkey. 

Now  drink  once  more — you'll  lose  all  self- 
control. 

You  can  no  longer  rant,  but  mumble,  mutter. 
Unable  on  your  feet  to  keep,  you  roll 

And    wallow    like   a   hog,  low  grunting    in 
the   gutter. 


j^** 

* 


STREET  PICTURES. 


..«=!« 


I. 

EHOLD  !    there    staggers    through    the 

busy    streets 
A  drunken,   low,   degraded   one, 
And   every    truant  urchin   whom   he   meets, 
In  childish  sport  to   be   molested   by, 

Seems  sent  to  cry: 
Accursed  of  Gocl,  reel  on ! 

This    wretch    who    now    is     trundling   to    his 

home, 

Alas !  has  lovely   wife  and   child. 
The   woman,   anxious,  waits  for  him  to  come. 
Though  he  maltreats,  disgraces  her,  she  yet, 

With   face  still  wet, 
Waits  for  this  man  defiled  ! 


STREET  PICTURES. 

Who  is  this  drunkard  ?     Of  the   many,  one, 

With   choicest  gift  upon  his  brow — 
Youth,  health,  and  mind  ;  and   these  by  drink 

undone. 
A  stain  and  shame  to  high  respected  ties, 

The  sot  thus  lies 
Low  in  the  gutter  now. 

There,  look  at  him !     If  struck  by  foul  disease, 

Ay,  even  the   dread  pestilence, 
It  could  not   have  destroyed  him    with    more 

ease 
Than  does  the   damned  poison  in   his   veins, 

Which  steals   his   brains — 
The  dram's  dire  consequence. 

He  loved  her  once — the  woman  now  his  wife. 

Had  any   other  man  dared  make 
A  ruffling  shadow   pass  upon   her   life, 
How   he   would  wild   with   indignation  start! 
And  now  her  heart 

Too  true,  himself  does  break. 

He  loved  that  babe  !  When  born  to  him,  at  first 

With  pleasure  wild   he  wept  and   smiled  ; 

Then  took  the  boy   into  his  arms  .and   burst 


STREET  PICTURES. 


67 


Into  a  passionate,   heaven-invoking  prayer ; 

And  now  his  heir 
He  brands  "  the   drunkard's  child  !  " 

Once  his  ambition  soared  for  highest  fame, 
The   pride  of  all  his  friends  awhile  ; 

He  long  ago  in  rum  drowned  hope  and  name. 

Delirious  most,  of  reason   near  bereft, 

All  for  him   left 
Is  but  a  lunatic's  exile. 

How   came    this   doom   to    pass  ?    take   heed ; 

come,  come, 

Young  friends,  be  Avarned,  imbibing  host! 
In  an  unguarded   moment  he  met  some 
Hilarious  company — drank  once — he  fell 

And,  clutched    by  hell, 
Forever  he  was  lost. 


Hence,  hence!  I'll  lead  him  home!     Our  pic- 
ture will 

O'er  all  the  world  encountered   be ; 
Till  church  and  school  unite  'gainst  bar  and  still. 
True  civilization  trembles  all  afear, 

And  drops  a  tear 
On  man's  depravity  ! 


68 


STREET  PICTURES. 


II. 

Right   through   the   middle  of  the   street, 
In   rain   or  sunshine,    storm    or  sleet- 
Most  with    bundles,   with  coffers  some — 
That's   the    way   our   "  greenhorns "   come. 

The  women  are  buxom,  and  strong  the   men- 
German   or   Irish,  no   matter;   when 
They   touch   the  ground   of  this  free  land, 
Re-born   are  all  in   heart  and    hand. 

Settling  soon   'midst  friends   near  and  dear- 
There  are  no  strangers  among  us  here. 
Though    some    become    servants  and  ;'  help  " 

for  a  time, 
None  are  made  slaves  but  committers  of  crime. 

Open   to  all   is  the   area  of  wealth- 
Open  to  all  the  sources  of  health. 
Thus   many  ?   poor  one  few  years  ago  came, 
Who  now  has  attained  high  position  and  fame. 

'Tis  so   with   the   emigrant   women  of  now  ; 
"Lis'le"   becomes  a  fat   Dutchman's   frau ; 
Biddy  is  married   unto   her  old   beau— 
And  that  is  the   way  our  "greenhorns"   go! 


STREE  T  PICTURES. 


III. 

Please    give    me    a    penny  !     I'm    hungry    and 

cold! 

My   mother  at   home   is   sick  and  old. 
Please  give  me  a  penny  !     My   father  has 
Been  in   prison  for  weeks,   alas  ! 

He  had   no   work,  and  we   had  no  bread  ; 
And   he   wished   himself  and  all  of  us   dead. 
And      then      he      drank     liquor — it     set     him 

wild  ; 
And  he  struck  poor  mother  and  me,  his  child. 

When  first  I  visited   him   in  the   cell 

He    hugged    me    so    close    and    with    such   a 

yell ! 
And    he    cried    and    sobbed,   and   sobbed    and 

cried, 
'Midst  kiss  and   caresses   I  had   to  chide. 

So  give   me   a  penny,   if  you  think  meet, 
Wherewith   to  buy  bread  for   mother  to   eat. 
Say  you,   sir,  all  this  money  is  mine? 
Thank  God  and  bless   you  ! — it   pays   father's 
fine. 


70  STREET  PICTURES. 

I  need  not  beg  to-night  any    more  ! 
We  shall  be   happy  as   we   were   before. 
And  all  in  return  I   can  offer  to  give, 
You  I'll  remember  as  long  as  I   live. 


IV, 


Through  all  the  town,  'midst  clatter  and  din, 
Cries  loud  a  voice :  "Ho!  who  will  buy  sin?" 

Buy  sin  in  most  hideous,  repulsive  guile- 
Woman  abandoned,   degraded,   and   vile  ; 

And,  as  she  wanders  to  and  fro, 
Proclaiming:  "Society   made   me  so!" 


Society,   boasting  of  virtue  sublime, 
Yet  pressing  us  creatures  into-  crime ; 

Building  churches,  all  velvet-pewed, 
Yet     making     her     daughters     debased     and 
lewd ; 


STREET  PICTURES. 

Sending  the  children  to   Sunday-school, 
Then  throws  them   into  a  fiery   pool ; 

Society- dancing  for  charity's  sake, 

While  lives  are   perishing,  souls  are  at  stake  ; 

Robbing  the  masses  wholesale,  and  then 
Gives  them  a  penny  to  starve  in  a  den  ; 

Boasting  enlightenment,   science,  and  art, 
While  hunger  and  ignorance  never  depart ; 

With  all  the  progress  but  for  the  rich; 
For  the  rest  aye   misery,  prison,  and  ditch  ; 

Society,  meaning  the  moneyed   folks, 
While  secret  she  fun  at  poverty   pokes; 

Marshaling     'gainst     virtue     the     glitter     of 

wealth  ; 
Cursing    the   wanton   she    maketh    by  stealth. 

Will  ye   who  are  guiltless  now  cast  the  first 

stone 
On    outcasts,    who,    Heaven    grant,    may    yet 

atone  ? 


'\        72  STREET  PICTURES. 

While    all    through    the    town,    'midst    clatter 

and    din, 
Cries    loud    a    voice:     "Ho!     who    will    buy 

sin?" 

Buy   sin   in   most  hideous,   repulsive  guile- 
Woman  abandoned,  degraded,  and   vile ; 

And,  as  she  wanders  to  and  fro, 
Proclaiming:    ''Society   made   me  so!" 


V. 


On  the  first  floor  in  the  parlor 
A  lass,  all  youth  and  glee, 

Sits,  by   her  beaux   surrounded — 
Young  Southern   chivalry. 

Under  her  window  the  organ 
A  one-armed  soldier  grinds  ; 

The  scar  across  his  forehead 
Of  battle  hot,   reminds. 


STREET  PICTURES.  fc 

Those  up  in  the  parlor  are   laughing; 

They   bask  in  comfort  and  ease, 
While,  shivering,  the  invalid  freezes — 

A   Union-defender  in  peace. 

The  girl  leans  out  of  the.  window 

And  throws  him  a  coin  from  her  hand 

"  Take  this  ;  and  now,  old  beggar, 
Come  play  us  '  Dixie  Land  ! ' ' 

But  through   the  open   window 

He  hurls  the   money   back; 
Then  tighter  the  crank  he  clutches, 

While  slowly   making  track. 

And  fast  and   fierce   he's  grinding 
The   tunes  of  the  boys  in  blue — 

All-conquering  "  Yankee  Doodle," 
And  "  Hail   Columbia  "  too  ! 

A  man  across  the  corner 

Has  watched  the  curious  scene ; 

He  knew  the  maimed,  brave  fellow — 
Had  his  commander  been. 
9 


STREET  PICTURES. 

"Well  done,   my  noble  comrade!" 
And  brightly  shone  his  eyes; 

"  Thou  shalt  find   home  and   comfort !  " 
He  with  emotion  cries. 

"  Here,   take   my  hand  as  token  : 
Long  may   the   Union  wave ! " 

His   word  has  broken  never — 
His  general  true  and   brave ! 


, 


LYRIC    TRIFLES. 


4=3 


' 


SONNET. 

DISSONANCE  and   Harmony  combined 
Form  that  sweet  music  which  unlocks 

our  soul 

And   makes   the   ear   feast   under   its   control. 
Thus  is  the  heart,  too,  touched,  if  we  can  find 
The   poet's   song,   conveying-   to   our   mind 
Word    music.     Alternately   should    roll 
The  tears  of  woe   and   anguish   copious  flow- 
ing* 

Dissolved  by  sparkling  wit  and  joy  all  glow- 
ing. 

My  songs   were   culled    in   such   varieties 
Of  wine  and   love,  intrigue  and   merry  glees. 
Alas !    I    hear   the   living   and   the    dying 
Cry  loud   for   help    and    see   all   the   degrees 
Of  misery    in    all   its   stages.     Denying 
Me  all — but  dissonance  and  grating  melodies. 


78  LYRIC    TRIFLES. 

IN    MEMORIAM. 

ADOLPH  CREMIEUX,    LIFE  SENATOR   OF   FRANCE. 

•\7ISGADAL   w'yiskadash!* 

j[        The  Hebrew's  mourning  prayer- 
Resounds    in    temple    and    synagogue ; 
For   Time,  the    cruel   slayer, 
Laid    fatal   hand   upon    a   chief. 
All    Isr'el   is    in   tears   and   grief. 
As   Rachel    mourns   her   lost — a   mother — 
We    Cremieux   mourn — our  brother. 

Yisgadal   w'yiskadash  ! 

Religion  feels   extending, 

Wherever   people   worship    God, 

The    woful   loss,   heartrending. 

Alike   for   Gentile   and   for  Jew 

A   great   man    left   us — good   and    true. 

Religion,    like   bereft   a   mother, 

She   Cremieux   mourns — our  brother. 

Yisgadal    w'yiskadash ! 
Law,  Justice  loud   are    wailing. 
Oppressed    of  every   land   and    clime 
May    well   feel   faint   and   failing. 

*  "  Be  exalted  and  sanctified."      The  beginning  words  of  the  Hebrew 
prayer  for  the  dead,  called  "  Radish.1' 


JUDGE  NOT,  CONDEMN  NOT.  J 

For   Freedom    lost   one   of  her   stays 
When   death   cut   short   his   mortal   days. 
Truth   sorrows   like   a   stricken   mother 
Cremieux   is   dead— our   brother. 

Yisgadal  w'yiskadash  ! 
Humanity  in   anguish 
"  Reste   in  pace !  "    trembling  weeps, 
Nor   soon    her    woe    will   languish. 
For   God    hath   stilled   a   human   heart 
In   which   the    whole    world    had    a   part. 
Humanity,    our   common    mother, 
Weeps  Cremieux ! — weeps  our  brother! 


JUDGE    NOT,    CONDEMN   NOT. 

JUDGE    not,   condemn    not !     Men    who 
are  accused 
Often   are   guiltless  and  cruelly  abused. 
Error   is   quick,    restitution    comes   slow ; 
Be   not  foremost  the   first   stone    to   throw. 
Time    enough,    time    enough    guilt   to   de- 
plore ! 
Judge   not — wait   till   the   trial   is   o'er! 


80 


LYRIC  TRIFLES. 


Often   appearances   tend   to   betray, 
Often    passions   our  judgment   sway, 
Often   is   innocence   foully   assailed— 
Truth    is  naked,  while  falsehood  is  mailed  ; 
Honor   once   taken   you    cannot   restore. 
Judge   not — wait   tiil   the   trial   is   o'er ! 

Ere  the  fair  fame  of  a  brother  you  doom, 
Ponder  as  if  you  stood  over  his  tomb ; 
Dip  it  in  kindness,  steep  it  in  love; 
Handle  it  tenderly— think  of  Above ! 
Judge  not,  condemn  not!  'twas  bidden  ot 

yore. 
Judge     not — wait   till   the   trial   is   o'er. 


THINK    OF    IT. 

THINK  of  it !    our  joy  and   sorrow 
Of  the   present,  of   the   morrow, 
Love   and    hate,  and   hope   and   fear, 
Friends   afar   or   e'er   so   near, 
All   must   die   to   live ! — 'tis   writ. 
Think  of  it,   Oh  !  think  of  it. 


THINK  OF  IT. 

Think   of  it!    then    let    no    trouble 
E'er   attempt  its   share   to  double. 
Think   of  it,   and   let  no  joy 
Time  of  more   importance   cloy. 
All   must   die   to   live ! — 'tis   writ. 
Think   of  it,  Oh  !    think   of  it. 

Think  of  it !    for   all    affection 
Cannot   stay   its   deep   deflection ; 
Nor  may    hatred    at   the   best 
Time   in    his  due   course   arrest. 
All  must   die  to    live! — 'tis    writ. 
Think   of   it,   Oh!   think   of  it. 

Think    of  it!    when   fearing,    hoping — 
We're   not   e'er  in  darkness   groping. 
Those   afar   or  e'er  so    near — 
Think   of  it   and  never   fear : 
All   must   die    to   live ! — 'tis  writ. 
Think   of  it,  Oh  !    think   of  it. 


10 


Ik 


82  LYRIC   TRIFLES. 

IN    MEMORIAM. 

WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

WEEP,    nation    of   America — mourn,    all 
the  world! 

A  man  whose  fame  around  humanity  is  furled, 
A    great,    good    man,  is    dead !     His    life    had 

been  anointed, 

A    bard    and    seer,  by    the    hand    of  God    ap- 
pointed ; 

His  words  and  thoughts  and  deeds  harmo- 
nious pearled 

As  one  great  poem,  most  sublimely  wrought 
and  jointed, 

A  never-dying  song  contained  in  this  syn- 
opsis— 

The  ever-living,  the  immortal  "  Thanatopsis  !  " 

Thy  native  country,  thy  beloved  fatherland, 
For  one  like  unto  thee  who  all  revered,  departs, 
Has  but  one  Pantheon  !      It    must  be    beauti- 
fully grand 

To  be  enshrined  forever  in  loving,  human 
hearts. 


NECRODULIE. 


Among  the  best  and    noblest    thou    hast   been 

a   giant ! 
"  Reqtiiescat     in      pace ! "        This     tear      for 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


NECRODULIE. 

AN   ACROSTIC. 

HENRY  WADS  WORTH  LONGFELLOW. 

HUSH!  the  heart  is  stilled  that  rang 
E  ver  warm  for  truth  and    right ; 
Now  the  voice  is  dead  that  sang 
Royally  for  life  and  light — 
Y  ea,  for  all  that's  grand  and  bright ! 

Weep!   our  foremost  bard  is  gone! 
All  reluctantly  ahd  prone 
Dead  to  realize  him  ever; 
S  ong  and  light  and  truth  ;  who  never 
Wove  but  what  was  most  sublime. 
Ode  of  grief!   a  mournful  chime, 
Ringing  o'er  the  country,  tolling; 
T  ear-inviting,  unconsoling — 
Hiawatha's  author  gone! 


84  LYRIC  TRIFLES. 

Lo!   from  out  his  pall  and  tomb — 
O  h  !   these  very  words  are  gloom — 
N  e'ertheless  breaks  forth  a  vision, 
G  lorious  true,  a  poet's  mission. 
F  or  all  ages,  ever  vernal, 
Ever  youthful  and  in  bloom; 
Life's  memorial,  God's  commission: 
Light  and  Truth  and  Song  eternal 
O  rb  and  crown  his  life  and  name 
W  ith  immortal,  God-like  fame  ! 


THE   DEAD   RABBI. 

77V  MEMORY  OF  THE  LATE  LAMENTED  REV.  DR.   MAX 
LILIENTHAL,    OF  CINCINNATI. 

THE   grave   is   filled   and   the  crowds   are 
gone ; 

The  solemn  obsequies  are  past. 
The  Rabbi  is  dead,  and  buried,  and  sleeps, 

Reposing  forever  and  aye  at  last. 
From  early  youth  till  his  green  old  age 

He  cared  not  for  quiet,  he  sought  not  for 
rest. 


THE  DEAD  RABBI. 

His  was  the  battle  for  knowledge  and  truth  ; 
A    man    of    the     sturdiest,     grandest,    and 
best— 

A  laborer  and  sage 
In  our  time  and  age. 

His  was  the  struggle  for  right  and  light, 
To  set  the  oppressed  and  bonded  free ; 
To  teach  to  his  people,  advancing  the  world  : 
"  Nearer,    my    God,    to    Thee,    nearer    to 
Thee." 

As  time  shall  roll  on  they'll  erect  him  a  shaft 


Of  bronze  or  Carrarian  marble  white. 
With  golden  letters  it  will  hold  inscribed 

His  life  and  death  so  pure  and  bright. 
But  needed  are  scarcely  the  metal  or  stone— 

The  task  he  achieved  shall  time  defy ; 
For  thought  is  immortal  and  mind  has  no  end, 

And  Love,  Hope,  and  Charity  never  will  die. 
Invisibly  kept, 
Are  tears  sadly  wept ; 
The  ache  of  the  heart  and  the  anguish  of  souls 

Exist  for  eternity,  floating  on, 
Until  humanity's  mission  is  reached 

And  earth  and  time  their  work  have  done. 


86 


LYRIC  TRIFLES. 


A  life  thus  completed,  a  labor  thus  wrought, 
A  goal  thus   achieved  which  divinely  was 

born, 

A  day  thus  closed  and  an  eve  thus  begun, 
Must  have  after  nightfall  again  a  morn. 
There  must  be  a  waking  from  such  a  dream; 

There  will  be  a  rising  after  such  sleep. 
Nothing  in  nature  does  really  die : 

The    world   shall   not    mourn    forever    and 
weep. 

Ah,  sorrow  no  more ! 
It  was  written  of  yore: 

"  The  dust  shall  return -unto  mother  earth, 
But  home  the  Lord  our  souls  will  call." 
The    name    of   the    righteous    shall    ever    be 

blessed — 
Then  rest  in  peace,  RABBI  LILIENTHAL. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  JEWELER.  87 

THE    SONG  OF   THE  JEWELER. 

A  BALLAD. 

I'VE   been   commissioned    to    make   this 
thing— 

A  wedding-ring,  a  wedding-ring ; 
And  while  I  melt  and  mould  this  gold 
My  lay  is  short  and  quickly  told. 

The  maid  to  wear  this  band  so  fine — 
She  loved   me,   promised   to  be   mine. 
It  is  the  story  old  as  time, 
Rehearsed  in  prose  and  sung  in  rhyme  : 

Since  he  is  rich  and  I  am  poor, 
She  now  forsakes  me,  perjured  sure. 
Into  this  crucible  I'd   melt 
The  pangs  I  feel,  the  pangs  I   felt. 

It  is  the  hardest  work,  I  con, 
I'll  ever  do,  I've  ever  done; 
The  sadder  all,  that  with  this  ring 
I'd  pray,  that  happiness  it  bring. 

No  matter,  though,  how  hard  my  fate, 
All  scorn  and  hate,  all  scorn  and  hate, 
Within  my  heart  they  take  their  flight 
If  she'll  this  circlet  cherish  right. 


LYRIC   TRIFLES. 


God  bless  the  ring,  the  sign  sublime ! 
My  hammer  and  my  anvil  chime! 
And  "  Amen  "  shall  my  true  love  say 
To-morrow  on  her  wedding-day. 


ADIEU,    ADIEU!     I    GAVE   THEE   UP. 

ADIEU,  adieu!    I  gave  thee  up 
With  bleeding   heart   and  quiver- 
ing  soul, 

And  from  a  blasted  hope  this  drop— 
A  tear,  I'm   not  ashamed  of— roll. 
Yes !    thou  wast  very  dear  to  me  ; 
I  happy  dreamed  to  be  with  thee. 
Thy  and  my  fate  I  but  bewail 
That  thou  should  be  so  fair  and  frail, 
And  that  I  loved,  one  more  loved  never, 
And  now  must  give  thee  up  forever. 


MEMORY  OF  A  DEPARTED  FRIEND,    89 


TO    THE    MEMORY  OF   A   DEPARTED 
FRIEND. 

WHOEVER  was  able  unraveling  life, 
With    all    its   great  joy    and    great 

sorrow, 
With  all  its  ambition,  loves,  hopes,  and  strife 

And  the  cares   we   borrow? 
When  barely  begun  we  end  our  career 
To  leave  love,  hope,  and  ambition  here. 

Whoever  was  able  unfathoming  death, 

Who  comes  'midst  tears  and  heart-aching  ; 

Closing  dear  eyes  and  quenching  loved  breath, 
No   station  forsaking  ? 

The  rich  and  the  poor,   the  lowly,  the  great, 

Are  equally   meeting  the   certain  fate. 


'Tis  all  a  blank  mystery,  all  wrapt   in   night  ! 

With   only  this  high   consolation  : 
Humanity,  goodness,  love,  honor,  and  right, 

Our  immortal  creation, 

Like  Heaven  eternal,  like  God,  know  no  end  ! 
Requiescat  in  pace  !    1113^   noble,   good   friend. 


LYRIC   TRIFLES. 


NIL   DESPERANDUM. 
I. 

THE    poorest  thing  on   earth   to  life   doth 
cling ; 

.And   I — must  1   despair  ? 

My  heart  is  quivering,  feverish,  in  each  string 
'Tis  sore   with  grief  and   care. 
To  Heaven   I   stare, 

Praying  sans  hope  ;   the  eye  filled  with  a  tear — 
Within  the  breast  a  sting — the  soul  all  fear. 

II. 

When   I   was  yet  a  child, 

Roaming  and   wild, 
I   often  dreamt  many  a  dream  so  bright, 

By   day   and   night. 

But  youth  has  vanished,  all  dreams  are  gone, 
Like  bubbles  that  into  thin   air  are   blown. 

All   that  life   hath   brought 

To   manhood   wrought 
Is  but  ceaseless,  fruitless  toil 

And    wild  turmoil. 

And   this  for  enough  of  bread  but  to  reap, 
To  feel  the  hunger  that  banishes  sleep. 


NIL  DESPERANDUM.  91 

Would   I   were  yet  a  child, 

Roaming  wild, 
And  dreaming  that  beautiful  vision  once  more 

That  upward   bore 

The  innocent  boy  to  the  spheres  of  light, 
Never  again  to   wake  from  that  night ! 

III. 

And   still,  the  poorest  thifig  to  life  doth  cling; 

Nor   will   I   yet  despair. 
The  heart  may  quiver,  feverish,  in  each  string, 

Sore   with  grief  and    care. 

To   Heaven   I   stare ! 

And,  praying,  hope  returns  ;  it  dries  the  tear ; 
The  sting  has  lost  its  pangs,  the  soul  all  fear. 


LYRIC   TRIFLES. 


I  THINK  OF  THEE,  I  THINK  OF 
THEE. 

MIDNIGHT    THOUGHTS. 

1    THINK  of  Thee,  I  think  of  Thee! 
While    shivering    midnight    decks    the 

world. 
I  think  of  Thee,  I   think  of  Thee, 

Though  in  sleep's  cloak  the  earth  is  furled. 
Oh  !  slumber  Thou,   sweet  dreams   be  thine, 
While  sad,  alone,  and  'wake  I  pine. 

I    think  of  Thee,  I   think  of  Thee! 

Through    storm    and    rain   yon    blinks   one 

star. 
I  think  of  Thee,  I  think  of  Thee: 

Like    midnight  thus  my  feelings  are. 
I  think  of  thee  :    Thou  like  that  spark 
Shed'st  light  into  my   bosom  dark. 

I  think  of  Thee,  I  think  of  Thee, 

He  who   made  darkness,  storm,  and  rain. 

I  think  of  Thee,   I  think  of  Thee — 

Brings  morning,  too,  to  soothe  our  pain. 

May  He  protect  us  in  His  might ! 

I  think  of  Thee.     Good-night — good-night. 


TO  LOVE  AND  BE  LOVED  IN  RETURN.     93 


TO  LOVE  AND  BE  LOVED  IN 
RETURN. 

TO  love  and  be  loved  in  return ! 
O    Heaven !    what   rapture    is    con- 
tained 
In  this  one  sentiment — the   bourne 

Of  bliss  and  blessing.      Unrestrained 
By   all  that  is  of  mortal  birth, 
It  makes  a  paradise  of  earth. 

To  love  and  be   loved  !    It  implies 
Intensest  passion,   pure  and  kind  ; 

One  that  ennobles,  sanctifies 

The  human  heart  and  soul  and  mind. 

Whom   is  assigned  such  destiny, 

Though  poor,  is   rich ;    though   low,  stands 
high. 

To  love  and  be   loved  !     To  your  heart 
Hold  pressed  the  precious  gift,  and  then 

May  fortune  smile,  or  vile  depart. 
Above  this  all  stand  loving  men. 

Their  faith  and  hope  here  and  Above 

It  is  to  be  loved  and  to  love. 


I 


94 


LYRIC  TRIFLES, 


TO   LOVE   IN  VAIN— WHAT    AGONY ! 

WHAT  agony — to  love  in   vain  ! — • 
Is  not  implied  by  these  few  words, 
When  yearning  woe  will  not  restrain 

The  harrowed   breast  in  all  its  cords? 
The  feverish  blood  leaps  through  the  veins, 
As  if  to  madden  soul  and  brains. 

True !    we  feel  sad  to  part  with   friends, 
Yet  may   we   hope  to   meet  again. 

But  no  such  consolation  sends 

Love   unreturned — a   love   in   vain. 

It  does  imply  the  saddest  doom, 

A   checkered  life,  an  early   tomb. 

True,   true !     we    mourn    when,  severed    by 
death, 

Goes  home   one   who  to  us  is  dear ; 
But   we  believe  with  our  last  breath 

Of  an  hereafter's  higher  sphere. 
The  heart,  alas!    here  and  Above 
Despairs  of  when   'tis   broke  by  love. 


SONG. 


SONG. 

FROM  THE  DRAMA   "GENIUS." 


'N 


EATH    coral,  shell,  and  weed  the 

ocean 

One  priceless   pearl  conceals : 
Thus  hides  my  heart  a  deep  emotion, 
The  fervent  love  it  feels. 


On  Heaven's  vaulted  blue,  unmeasured, 
One  sun  holds  high  control : 

Thus  is  thine  radiant  picture  treasured 
Supremely  in   my  soul. 

'Tis  said,  of  solar  light  depriven, 
The  gem   would  surely  die : 

So  must  my  love  and  life  be  riven 
Were  closed  to  me  thine  eye. 

Then  as  the  sun,  whenever  shining, 

Reflects  him  in  the  sea, 
Deign  thou  unto  my  soul  repining 

One  look  of  sympathy. 


TRIFLES. 


SONG. 

7Y/£-  DRAMA   "SAMSON." 

AND   must   I  then  not  love  thee? 
Thou  art  not  of  my   creed ! 
So  help  the  Lord  above  me, 
I   can  and   will  not  heed ! 
Tis  vain  indeed  forever 

Affection  pure  to  part; 
For  naught  true  love  can  sever 
From  a  beloved  heart. 

I  climbed  the  mountain  lonely  ; 

The  solitude  above 
With  silent  tongue  asked   only: 

"  What  creed  forbids  to  love  ?  " 
I   walked  the  sea-shore,  musing ; 

The  surf  beneath,  indeed, 
Sang  evermore,  accusing: 

"  Love  cares  not  for  a  creed." 

Where'er  I  roamed  I  met  thee; 

'Tis  vain — I'll  not  forsake. 
For  ere  I  could  forget  thee 

My  heart  must  surely  break. 


V3&- 


FOURTH  OF  JULY,    1861.  97 

'Tis  vain  indeed  forever 

Affection  pure  to  part ; 
For  naught  true  love  can  sever 

From  a  beloved  heart. 


FOURTH   OF  JULY,  1861. 

THIS   is   a   day  which  the  Lord   has   ap- 
pointed. 

Open  the  chapels,  and,  kneeling  devout, 
Glory  to  Him  who  our  heroes  anointed, 

Strengthening  their   hearts,    brave,    noble, 

and  stout, 

To  rescue  the   Nation  from  tyranny 
On  Liberty's  birthday,  the  Fourth  of  July. 


God  of  our  fathers  !  Who  ever  hast  guarded, 
In  battle  and  council,  America's  fate, 

Hear,  we  invoke  Thee  !  restore  the  departed 
Peace,  love,  and  freedom  to  every  State. 

May  proudly  the  eagle  soar  high  to  the  sky 

On  Liberty's  birthday,  each  Fourth  of  July. 
12 


OTHER    POEMS. 


thei[ 


YAH,  YAH  !* 

A     TEUTONIC     SKETCH. 
I. 

A    PICTURESQUE  village  on  the  banks  of 
/~~V      the  Rhine, 
With    crimson-hued   oak  and  the  well-loaded 

vine  ; 

A  cottage  all  decked  in  moss,  ivy,  and  green, 
Though    crumbling,    yet    cheerful     and    cozy 

and  clean, 
Is  the  home  of  a  silver-haired  widow — "  Yah, 

yah," 
But  her  only  son  's  in  America  ! 

*  Yah,  ya/t/—Yes,  yes  ! 


3P 

^%) 

IO2 

OTHER  POEMS. 

| 

gown 

She  sits  in  the  huge  old  family  chair ; 
Her  face  it  is  wrinkled,  her  form  is  bent  down, 
And   her   fine    Roman   nose    holds   a  spec- 
tacle pair. 
'Tis    twilight ;    she's  knitting,    and   oft    sighs, 

"  Yah,  yah, 
How  my  heart  yearns  for  him  in  America  ! 

"  He  writes  of  that  fair  and  beautiful  land, 
And  of  things  we  old  folks  can't  understand. 
That    all   there    are    equal,  and   all   there  are 

free, 
And    labor   is   honored   in   the    land   o'er  the 

sea." 
With    cracked   and  with   tremulous  voice  she 

adds,  "  Yah, 
God  prosper  and  bless  America !  " 

As  mesh  upon  mesh  her  worsted-work  grows 
The  embers    die    out   in    the  quaint  rustic 

grate  ; 
She  drowsily  nods  and  sinks  in  repose, 

But    sudden    is     roused     by    the     creaky- 
hinged   gate. 


YAH,   YAH!  103 

Knocks    the    postman.     A   letter!      She    cries 

out:    "  Yah, 
It  comes  from   my  boy  in  America!" 


She    would     not    exchange    it    for    jewel    or 

charm. 

With  fumbling  finger  and  trembling  arm, 
And    while   with  emotion    beats   quicker    her 

heart, 

She  opens  the  missive,  and  reads,  with  a  start, 
And    a    tear,  and    a    smile,    loud  .  rejoicing — 

"  Yah,  yah, 
He's  well,  he's  well  in  America !  " 

"  He's  coming !  "    "  I'm  here  !  "    cries  a  voice. 

By  the  sound 
She    knows    him  —  she    knows    him  —  and, 

speechless  with  joy, 
Her    arms    his    weather-bronzed    neck    clasp 

around, 
And  her  head  drops  reclining  on  the  breast 

of  her  boy. 
But   then   she  recovers,  and  sobs  out,   "Yah, 

yah, 
My  child,  oh  !  my  son  from  America ! " 


J  O  \ 


0  THER  POEMS. 


II. 


"  And  do  you  know  my  Fritz  has  come— 
Gretchen,    his     sweetheart,    to     take    to     his 

home  ? 

Valley  and  mountain,  ocean  and  State, 
Never  true  loving  hearts  separate  ! 
And  when  his  young   *  Frau  '  *   he  takes  over 

the  sea, 
Their    wrinkled     old     mother  —  they'll    never 

leave  me  ; 

They  beg  and  entreat  incessant:    'Yah,   yah,' 
I  must  with  them  go  to  America. 


"  Seventy  years— aye,  seventy  years— 

With  tears  and  with   smiles,  with    hopes   and 

with  fears, 
With  joys  and  with  sorrows,  have  come  and 

have  gone : 

Happily  married,  left  widowed  alone  ; 
Yon  in  God's-acre  sleep  husband  and  child, 
Father  and  mother !     It  makes  me  quite  wild 
To  place  the  ocean  between  us — '  Yah,  yah,' 
And  die  and  be  buried  in  America. 


YAH,    YAH! 


105 


"  To  leave  my  cottage,  my  flowers  and  vines, 
And  every  dear  object  my  bosom  enshrines ; 
Old  neighbors  and  friends,  with  daughters 

and  sons — 

'  Grossmutter  '  *  all  call  me  the  little  ones  ; 
My    birds   and    my  chickens,  and    Tabby,  the 

cat — 

Farewell  to  say  now  to  this  and  to  that. 
Oh  !    how    my    poor    heart   will    ache,    *  Yah, 

yah,' 
To  part  with  them  now  for  America  ! 

"  But  there  will  be  all  the  loved  ones  of  mine, 
And  there  the  sun  as  here  will  shine ; 
And  something  better  there,  too,  will  be  : 
A  blessed  country  where  all  are  free ! 
Nor  do  I  doubt,  nor  do  I  fear, 
That  over  the  ocean,  God,  too,  is  near. 
All  days  of  my  life  I  trusted  Him.     '  Yah, 
He'll  never  forsake  me  in  America  ! 

"  So  gladly  I  say,  then,  His  will  be  done  ! 
'  Yah,'  1  will  go   with  you,    my    daughter  and 


son. 


*  Grossmutter — Grandmother. 


• 


io6 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Get   ready,    get    married ;    be    blessed !     And 

you  know 
We'll    be    there    the   sooner,    the   sooner    we 

g°- 
I  fancy  already — I  talk  like  the  old — 

Some   darling    wee  babe,  eh?   on  my  knees  I 

may  hold  ; 
Then    I    will    be    ready   to    die  —  'Yah,    yah, 

yah  '- 
To  sleep  my  last  sleep  in  America. 


in. 


"  Five   years   it   is   since    I've  sailed  over  the 

brine, 
Exchanging   the    Mississippi   in   place    of    the 

Rhine. 

Else  nothing  has  altered — the  ivy  and  green 
Deck  cosy  my  cottage,  as  yonder  has  been. 
With  more  than  childlike  affection  and  grace 
Was   modeled    my    New    by   my  Old    World 

place. 
And    neighbors    and    friends    I    have   found — 

'  Yah,  yah  '- 
Loving  and  kind,  too,  in  America ! 


YAH,    YAH! 


107 


"  Still  something  has  changed :  more  weak  and 

frail 

My  body  is  growing.     I  visibly  fail 
In  health  and  strength,  in  speech  and  song: 
But  spite  of  all  I  feel  again  young, 
In  children's  children,  youth  and  life, 
My  noble  son  and  his  darling  wife, 
Their    dark-faced    boy    and    fair-haired    girl— 

'  Yah,' 
It  seems  like  a  dream  in  America! 


"  With  never  a  sorrow,  with  never  a  care, 
Most  blessed  of  mothers — enough  and  to  spare, 
For  wants  and  for  charity  yields  the  good  farm. 
All  hearts  here  are  tender  —  so  strong  every 

arm ! 

Dependent  alone  on  each  other  for  love, 
And     goodness    and     mercy    on    Him     who's 

Above. 
Around    me   is   blooming   the    sunny   South — 

1  Yah,' 
My  old  age  is  blessed  in  America! 

"  The    mocking-bird    warbles    so   cheer'ly   his 

tune ; 
Magnolia  and  roses  perfume  the  sweet  June; 


\oS 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Around  me  reigns  peace  serenely  and  mild, 
While  rocking  to  sleep  the  darling,  dear  child. 
My    thoughts,  though,  will  wander,  my  tears 

freely  flow, 

As  over  the  ocean  to  the  Rhineland  they  go. 
I  weep  for  my  dear  ones  there  buried — 'Yah, 

yah/ 
Our  dead  friends  abroad  live  in  America. 

"  But   still    I    am   thankful   that   I    have   been 

spared 

To  witness  such  joy,  and  such  happiness  reared. 
My  heart  is  so  full,  I  must  fall  on  my  knees : 
I  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  Who  my  innermost 

sees, 
For  all  Thy  great  mercy !      Soon  wilt  Thou, 

I  know, 

Permit  me  to  see  Thee — I'm   ready  to  go! 
But  with    my   last  breath  I   shall  breathe   it: 

•'Yah,  yah,' 
God  bless  thee  and  prosper,  America! 

"And   when   they   shall   lay   me   away  in    my 

grave, 
Let   the    Father    of   Rivers    my    resting-place 

lave. 


BANKRUPT. 

Where   life  was  so  tranquil,   there  cannot  be 

room 
For    aught   but    for   hope,    love,   and   faith   in 

the  tomb. 

Rose  and  magnolia  plant  over  it  bright; 
On  modest  memorial  this  epitaph  write  : 
'  Here    rests    a   true    woman   from    Germany, 

"  Yah," 
Who  lived  and  died  blessing  America  ! ' ' 


BANKRUPT. 

A    PICTURE   OF    THE    TIMES. 

OUT  of  the  thousands  but  few  peruse 
One  petit  item,  scarce  more  than  a  line, 
Next  editorial  or  telegraph  news; 

Typed — it  is  almost  for  reading  too  fine — 
Making  report  of  some  business  encumber'd, 
Such  as  appear  now  uncounted,  unnumber'd. 

"  Bankrupt "  it  heralds  a   mercantile  firm 
Somewhere  up  in  a  country  town. 

Well,  who  does  care  if  another  must  squirm? 
Old  is  the  story   of  life   up  and    down ; 


I  10 


OTHER  POEMS. 


But   while   it   seems,    ah !    one   more    bursted 

bubble, 
Fathom  who  can,  its  heartache  and  trouble. 

Suffering  and  tears  of  the  man  who  has  failed, 
One  already  advanced  in  years — 

He  who  never  from  hardships  has  quailed, 
Never  knew  selfishness,  cringing1,  or  fears. 

Weary  long  years  he  has  labored  and  striven, 

Building  the  fortune  a  moment  has  riven. 

Highly  respected  and  honored  his  fame, 

Bond    made   his   word    with   all  whom    he 

dealt ; 

Unquestioned   credit   attached   to  his   name ; 
Wealthy    and   poor   a   friend   in   him  felt. 
Wife   and    children   his  home  happy  render- 
Loving,  beloved,    kind,  generous,  and    tender. 

Bankrupt   now,   and    helpless   involved ! 

Caused  by  the  unforeseen   crisis;  betrayed 
Sadly  by  those  whom   he  trusted;  resolved— 

Honestly  facing   his   doom  undismayed — 
All  that  he  owns  in   this  world,  to   his  lend- 
ers 
Scrupulously  and  fully  surrenders. 


BANKRUPT.  Ill 

Bankrupt !     Now   do   you   know  what   it   is, 
Blighting   one   of  his   sensitive   sort  ? — 

One  who  never  knew  want  such  as  this, 
One  to  whom  loved  ones  look  up  for  support; 

Penniless,  houseless,  friendless,    despairing, 

Hopelessly  into  the  dark  future  staring. 

Look  at  the  contrast !  Affluence  and  ease 
Changed  into  poverty,  actual  need — 

Barely  enough  common  wants  to  appease. 
Pride  is  alone,  and  that  shame,  indeed, 

Left  him,   that   natural   shrinking   feeling 

Which  from  the  world  his  woe  is  concealing. 

Winter  approaches,  and  there  is  no  fuel ; 

Hunger  is  gnawing,  and  there  is  no  bread  ; 
Children  are  naked — O  God!  'tis  too  cruel: 

An  invalid  wife  confined  to   her   bed. 
Hark !      How  he   shrieks !   insane  !      How   he 

cowers ! 

"  Spare  them,  O    Lord !    Upon    me   fall   Thy 
powers ! " 

Thus  is  struck  down  the  cultured,  refined, 

By   a   commercial  tidal  wave. 
Easy   the   end   can   be  told   or   defined  : 

Broken,  a  heart  fills  a  newly-made  grave. 


112 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Widow  and    orphans    are  weeping    and    wail- 
ing— 
Father  of  Mercy,  oh!  be  Thou  not  failing. 


SUNSET   ON   MOUNT   DAVIDSON.* 

1865. 

MOUNTAIN-CONE,  upon  thy  summit, 
where  the  North  wind  icy  blows, 
In  the   dying    evening   twilight,  dying   like   a 

full-blown   rose, 

Lingers    one    beholding    wonders    more   sub- 
lime  eyes   never   saw  : 

Steep  the  hillsides,  deep  the  valleys— landscape 
picture  without  flaw. 

Miles  above  the  ocean-level,  isolated  from  the 

world, 

Sterile,  only  heather   growing,  and   the  sage- 
brush  thickly  curled- 
Rarefied,  the   air   can    barely  breath  supply- 
still  here  attests 

Every  knoll  that  human  labor  ne'er  is  daunted, 
never  rests. 

*  Virginia  City  and  Gold  Hill,  Nev.,  lie  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Davidson. 


SUNSE  T  ON  MO  UNT  DA  VI  D  SON. 


r  1  3 


One  decade  ere  this  the  Indian  roamed  alone 

here,  digging  root  ; 
Now  see    palaces  of  granite  dot  the  country 

black  with  soot  ; 
Instead  of  wigwam  and  of  camp-fire  rolls  the 

flame   of  coal  and  pines 
From  the  mouth  of  steam-  machinery  through 

the  densely  peopled  mines. 

As   if    by    a   dream    created,    or   as   by   some 

magic   spell, 
Roads   and   houses,    hamlets,    cities,    gird   the 

hill  and  grace  the  dell. 
High    up  into  the  Sierra,  who  the  wond'rous 

sight  beholds, 
Far  away  to   Utah's  desert,    where   the   Salt- 

Lake   growls   and    scolds  : 

Yes,  as  high   as   sight   will   carry,  and  a"S  low 

as  travel  sound, 
Pick  and  axe  have  shaft  and  tunnel  hewn  into 

the  rock  and   ground  ; 
For  since  Nature,  always  loving,  clothed  the 

surface  all  in  dearth, 
She    has    planted    richest     treasures     in     the 

bowels  of  the  earth. 

14 


114  O  THER  POEMS. 

Deep    below,    the    virgin-metal    joyous    weds 

with   Industry — 
Thus  is  close  the  far-off  Northland  joined  to 

Civilization   nigh. 
People    leave  their  homes  and  country,  flock 

to  places  waste  and  sere— 
They   are  coming,   coming,    coming,  spite  of 

hardship,  risk,  and  fear  ; 

Coming    like   a   new   migration,   traveling    on 

the  wings  of  steam— 
A   reality  which    shortly   seemed    but    like    a 

maniac's  scheme  ; 
Telegraph  and  locomotive,   electric  wire   and 

iron  track, 
Modern    knights,   jumped    on    the     giant,    on 

old   Rocky  Mountain's  back. 

Every  day  brings  new  processions ;  thus  they 

pour  in   file  by  file  ; 
They  find    room,  find  peace  and    plenty,  find 

a  home.     Perhaps  you  smile  ; 
But    the  watchword    of  the  Nations,   worthy 

of  the  present  day, 
Liberty's  parole  is  :   "Ubi  bene  ibi  patria  /  "  * 

*  Wherever  I  fare  well,  there  i^  my  home. 


TICONDEROGA  CENTENNIAL.  115 

TICONDEROGA   CENTENNIAL. 

inS— MAY  10—1875. 

THERE  stands  many  a  castle-ruin  in  other 
far-off  climes. 
The   traveler    looks  in   wonder,   reminded    of 

bygone  times — 
Reminded  of  horror  and  terror  of  bonds,  and 

fetters   and   slaves, 

Of  untold  tyrant-oppression  and  despots'  un- 
known graves. 

How   different   sounds   the   story,   like   song's 

undying  strain, 
From  the  Ruins  of  Ticonderoga,  on  beautiful 

Lake  Champlain  ! 
The    very   place   is   holy,   and  sanctified  each 

mound  ; 
A  monument  is  each  wall-stone,  on  consecrated 

ground. 

It  speaks  of  a  Nation  rising  and  hewing  in 
twain  its  yoke, 

Wielding  a  giant's  weapon  with  death-defy- 
ing stroke. 


I  1 6  OTHER  POEMS. 

It  speaks  of  Freedom's   natal,  proclaiming   in 

its  throe 
The  birth  of  the  Republic  one  hundred  years 

ago. 

"  In  the  name  of  the   GREAT  JEHOVAH!"   was 

made  the  stern  demand, 
"  And    the   Continental    Congress!"    by    Ethan 

Allen's  band. 
It  opened  to  the  summons,  the  foreigner  moved 

out, 
While  freemen   took  possession  with  glorious 

Yankee  shout. 

Immortal   be   the   story,   like   song's    undying 

strain — 
The  Ruins  of  Ticonderoga,  on  beautiful  Lake 

Champlain. 
The   place   be   ever   holy,  and  sanctified  each 

mound  ; 
A   monument   each  wall- stone,  on  consecrated 

ground. 


•e. 


SERIOUS  MISTAKE. 


117 


SERIOUS    MISTAKE. 

OR     pencil     or     chisel    it    would    be    a 

scene, 
Could    artist    or    sculptor   but    present    have 

been — 
A   tableau   that   would  have  established  their 

fame, 
To  paint  or  to  model  the  ancient  dame. 

Behold     her     there     sitting    in    grandfather's 

chair, 
Wrinkled     and     withered,    in    silver-bleached 

hair, 

The  spectacles  her  well-pointed  nose  squeeze, 
The  family  Bible  lies  on  her  knees. 

And  there  she  reads  of  the  first  man's  birth, 
How    God   creates    Adam   from    dust   of   the 

earth. 
But    hold !    here    she    stops ;    the    page   is    all 

done  : 
Over  she  turns,  but  two  leaves  instead  one. 


118 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Serene  she  continues,  and  never  does  mark 
This   turning    has    gone    in   old    Noah's   new 

Ark. 
And    thus    she   proceeds,  with   voice   cracked 

and  thin  : 
"  He   covered    with    pitch    both    outside    and 

in!" 


Imagine  who  can  her  face,   mouth,  and  eyes  ! 
If    lightning    had   struck    her   from    Heaven's 

blue  skies, 
Bewildered,    astonished     she     could     not    be 

more. 
One  jump,  and    erect  she   stands   straight  on 

the  floor. 

And  then  she  exclaims :  "  I'm  three-score  and 

one, 
But    never    did    dream    how    frail    we    were 

done. 
La,    mercy !    man    made    out    of    dust   of  the 

ditch, 
And    '  kivered '    all    inside   and    outside    with 

pitch  !  " 


*l 


WASHINGTON'S  JUDGMENT. 

WASHINGTON'S  JUDGMENT. 

A    VISION.     [1861.] 

YON,  where  the  Potomac  winds  its  course 
round  Vernon's  holy  height, 
I've    seen    the    spirit    of  Washington   rise   in 
my  dream  at  night; 
The  hero  blest, 
Who  stood  the  test 
Of  trying  time,  no  more  can  rest ; 
Aroused    by   dreadful   battle-cry    with    which 

his  children  rave — 

The   sons   unworthy   of   their   sires — it    woke 
him  from   his  grave. 

The  Continental   chief,  he  stands,  yon   on  the 

topmost  hill ; 

His  right  hand  holds  the  sword  high  raised, 
the  tears  of  sorrow  fill 

His  eyes  ;  thus  may 
He've  looked  that  day 
When  foes  held  o'er  the  country  sway ; 
When   he  did   life   and   honor    pledge   to   his 

own  native  land, 

The  Father  of  his  country,  'midst  that  noble, 
stalwart  band — 


. 


120 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Aye,  this,  his  own,  his  native  land,  for  which 

he   fought  and  bled, 

The  pride  and  glory  of  our   globe  e'er  since 
his  arm  it  led  ; 

The  hallowed  sod 
With  brother's  blood 
Is  red,  and  into  dust  is  trod. 
That  glorious  banner  'neath    which    he,  as  if 

by  Heaven's  power, 

Victoriously  the    Delaware  'crossed,   in    that 
self-same  hour. 

America's     Constitution ! — this,     our    modern 

Bible,  torn, 

This   sacred   patrimony   decked    with    hatred, 
guilt,  and  scorn  ; 

The  verdant  tree 
Of  Liberty, 

Beneath   whose  shadow  all  were  free, 
Leaf-stripped,    and     by    the     dreadful     storm 

which  from  the  Southward  blows, 
Columbia's  hero  no  longer  more   finds  in  his 
tomb  repose. 

Yon,    where    the    Potomac    winds  its   course 
round  Vernon's  holy  height, 


WASHINGTON'S  JUDGMENT. 


121 


I've   seen    the   spirit   of    Washington    rise    in 
my  dreams  at  night  : 
The  hero  brave 
From  out  his  grave, 
By  his  own  sons  dishonored,  gave 
His  judgment,  awful  and  serene,  like  ancient 

prophecy  : 

That  odious,    hated,   and  accursed  all  traitors 
surely  be. 

"  Fugitives  and  vagabonds  !    like  Cain's  shall 

be   their   dooms  ; 

Branded     and     marked     like    him,     free    soil 
shall   ne'er   contain   their  tombs  ; 
A   by-word   and 
Example   stand 

For   coming   eras   in   every  land  ; 
Their    country's  woe,   their    children's  curse, 

and  their   ancestors'   shame, 
Thus  shall  America's  history  preserve  hence- 
forth  their   name." 


Thus   cried   aloud  George  Washington.     The 

morning   dawned   afar ; 
Shrill    sounded    fife   and  drum,   and    all    the 

circumstance   of  war, 

15 


4=1 


J^fl 


o 

122  OTHER  POEMS, 

I,  'midst   the  roar, 
Saw    Heavenward   soar 
An   eagle  who  a   rattlesnake   bore: 
And    then     awoke ;    but    could    not    help— 

I    thought  this    dream    must   be 
A     vision    which    rebellion    judged,    like    an- 
cient  prophecy. 


THE    WHITEWASH-BRUSH. 

THE     whitewash-brush,     the     whitewash- 
brush, 

Is  higher  than  Allah,  greater  than  "  Josh  "  ; 
In  letters  and  science,  in  commerce  and  art, 
It  plays  its  wondrous,  powerful  part ; 
Aye  !  all  its  haughty  compeers  are  bosh 
Compared  to  the  mighty  whitewash-brush. 

Commanded  by  influence  or  gold, 

It  is  the  protector  of  young  and  old. 

Every  department  of  modern  life 

Reeking  with  wickedness  and  strife, 

Society,  politics,  religion — hush  ! 

They  are  all  safe  'neath  the  whitewash-brush. 


ft 


THE  WHITEWASH-BRUSH. 


123 


Scandal  and  gossip,  the  signs  of  our  time, 
Petty  sin  and  unheard-of  crime, 
Judge  and  president,  priest  and  flock, 
May  boldly  at  public  opinion  mock  ; 
Whatever  the  peril,  let  them  rush 
And    hide    in    the  ^shade    of   the    whitewash- 
brush. 

With  a  few  quick  strokes  it  covers  shames, 
Paints  all  fairly  the  blackest  of  names ; 
Investigation  it  renders  short 
With  a  friendly  committee's  swift  report ; 
And  behold,  instead   of  the  sinner's  crush, 
A  coat  laid  on  by  the  whitewash-brush ! 

All  other  emblems,  then,  let  us  lay  down — 
The    cross    and    the    sword,    the    mitre    and 

crown  ; 
Nor    learning,  nor   justice,    nor    faith    should 

miss 

To  take  for  their  standard  a  sign  like  this, 
Without  a  scruple,  without  a  blush  : 
The  gilded  sign  of  a  whitewash-brush  ! 


124 


OTHER  POEMS. 


NEIR    TOMID.* 

A  HEBREW  LEGEND  FROM  THE  CHRONICLES  OF  THE 
CITY  OF  WORMS. 

OLD    Worms,    the    Teuton's   stronghold, 
close    buckled   to  the    Rhine, 
Shows  yet  the   massive   synagogue    with    its 

time-hallowed  shrine  ; 
There  burn  two  lamps  for  ever,  the  chronicle 

does  state — 

A   most    mysterious   legend,   which   they   still 
perpetuate. 

And    thus  is   told    the   story :    It   chanced   in 

times  of  yore, 
When   history   its    gloomiest    fruit    of    blood 

and  carnage  bore ; 
The   Jews   were   then   the   objects    of    hatred 

and  disdain, 
Denounced   by  hypocritic   priests,  by  blinded 

people  slain. 

*  Lamps  burned  constantly  in  memory  of  a  beloved  dead. 


TO  MID.  125 

Fanatics,  well  supported  with  superstition's  aid, 
Against  Worms'  congregation  raised  a  cruel, 

dangerous  raid. 
"  The  public  wells  are  poisoned,"  report  first 

whispers  shy  ; 
"  The  public  wells  are  poisoned  !  "  soon  goes 

forth  the  dreadful  cry. 

"  They  who  of  old  our  Saviour  with  malice 
crucified 

Now  caused  the  pestilence  by  which  so 
many  Christians  died ; 

Their  Rabbins  have  been  loitering  suspi- 
ciously around, 

And  in  their  cursed  Ghetto  are  all  yet  well 
and  sound." 

The  streets  are  filled  with  people  e'er  ready 
for  a  row. 

"  Hepp,  hepp  !  "  *  they  cry  ;  and  "  Kill  the 
Jews  ;  they  are  damned  anyhow  !  " 

Into  the  threatened  quarter  the  raging 
masses  sped ; 

The  frightened  outcasts  quick  into  the  syna- 
gogue they  fled. 

*  A  cry  of  doubtful  origin,  used  by  the  mobs  in  Germany  preceding  and 
during  Jewish  persecutions. 


126 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Upon  their  knees  are  lying  men,  women, 
young  and  old, 

All  weeping,  wrapt  into  their  shrouds,  most 
awful  to  behold ; 

They're  solemnly  reciting  their  dismal,  dying 
chants, 

While  for  their  blood  the  riot  fierce  with- 
out loud  cries  and  pants  : 

"  The    cabalists,    the    criminals,    we    of   your 

hands  require, 
Doomed   in   the   holy  Roman  realm  to  death 

upon  the  pyre! 
If   you    withhold    our    bidding,    or    to    resist 

connive, 
We'll   burn  forthwith   the  Ghetto — aye,    we'll 

roast  you  all  alive ! " 

The  elders  and  the  people  for  counsel  quick 

combine, 
Their  hoary  teachers   praying   on   before  the 

holy  shrine. 
Loud     sounds    their   "  Sh'ma    Israel "  *    into 

each  ear  and  heart ; 
Crowbar   and    axe  outside   attempt  the  door 

to  break  or  part. 

*  The  leading  Hebrew  prayer. 


NEIR  TO  MID.  12  J 

"  These  walls  are  strong — a  fortress  in  this 
our  time  of  need  ; 

Our  wives  and  children  we'll  defend,  and, 
if  God  hath  decreed, 

We'll  die  here  with  our  teachers,  like  heroes 
and  like  men : 

Do  like  the  Maccabeans  —  arm  !  arm  for  re- 
sistance then  !  " 

All  rush  now  to  the  portals  with  death- 
defying  will. 

But  hark !  outside  the  noise  subsides ;  it 
suddenly  grows  still ; 

The  port-bolts  give,  and  by  themselves  the 
doors  are  open  cast. 

Hence  flies  the  startled,  boisterous  mob  ;  all 
danger,  sure,  is  past. 

The    vestibule    is    lighted,   and    unconsumed, 

like  spells, 
The  faggots  burn,  as  once  the  bush  of  which 

the  Bible  tells ; 
And  where  the  flames  lick  topmost  the  pyres 

in   purple   sheen, 
Two  aged  men    are  standing  firm,  by  all  the 

people  seen. 


128 


OTHER  POEMS. 


They    had    come,   none    knew    whither,    and 

loudly   did    exclaim 
Unto    the  furious  Christians  :  "  Stay !    we    are 

alone  to  blame ! 
Shed    not    the    blood    that's   innocent ;    on    us 

may  fall  your  ire  !  " 
Forthwith    the    stack    is    kindled ;    they    are 

doomed  unto  the  fire. 

But    lo !     the    flame   ne'er  singes    upon   their 

heads  a  hair ; 
Erect  they  stand,  with  upraised  hands :    their 

persecutors  stare 
In     frenzied     consternation    unto     the     awful 

sight ; 
And   terror  [smites  fanatics   wild,    who    take, 

confused,  to  flight. 

The    Israelites,    too,    see    there     the    miracle 

declared 
By    which     the    hour    of    danger    thus     has 

passed   and    they    are    spared ; 
They    still     cry:    «  Sh'ma     Israel!"     Behold, 

the  embers  feared 
Die  out  at  once,  and  suddenly  the  two  men 

disappeared. 


^x 

vv,£/ff  TOMID,  129 


They     vanished,     none    knew    whither  ;     but 

from   that  day  till  now 
Before    the    tabernacle    were,    as    a    most  sa- 

cred vow, 
By    day    and    night    kept    burning  —  thus    is 

each   sexton    bid  — 
Two    lamps,  denominated    well    the    martyrs' 

"Neir  Tomid  !  " 

Old    Worms,    the   Teuton's   stronghold,   close 

buckled  to  the  Rhine, 
Shows    yet    the   massive   synagogue  with    its 

time-hallowed  shrine  ; 
And  with  its  two  lamps  burning,  the  chroni- 

cle does  state— 
This    most    mysterious    legend,    which    they 

still  perpetuate. 


16 


OTHER  POEMS. 


FEBRILE   FRENZIES. 

FANTASIA. 
I. 

I   TOSS  abed  in  fever  craze, 
Clam  perspiration  decks  my  face  ; 
And  ugly  visions  rise  and  strain 
My  burning,  throbbing,  aching  brain. 

Nor  sleep  nor  wake,  as  one  who  dies, 
Wide  glaring,  open  stand  my  eyes; 
And  soon  in  cataleptic  throes 
Methinks  are  fading  hopes  and  woes. 

Dim  pass  away   my  thoughts  and  songs, 
Whatever  the  heart  loves,  fears,  and  longs ; 
And,  like  a  fleeting  shadow  stray, 
Life  ebbs  oblivious  soon  away. 

The  people  come,  the  people  go  ; 

Some  turn  me  over  to  and  fro ; 

My  body  in  a  coffin  crowd, 

Clean  washed,  and  clothed  in  linen  shroud, 


FEBRILE  FRENZIES. 


By  usage  old,  which  yet  prevails, 

Six  unplaned  boards,  box-shaped  with  nails, 

Is  every  Hebrew's  final  share, 

For  beggar  as  for  millionaire. 

Though  many  an  eye,  behold,  is  wet; 
Though  all  feel  sorry,  still  they  fret 
Until  the  hearse  starts  off  with  me 
Unto  the  Jewish  cemet'ry. 


But  ere  with  fresh,  damp  earth  all  ends, 
The  last  sad  rites  an  old  man  tends; 
He  lifts  the  lid,  and  on  his  knees 
Performs  most  curious  cer'monies. 

According  to  some  ancient  code, 
Half-solemn  and  half-cruel  mode,. 
With  fragments  of  a  broken  cup 
The  eyes  and  mouth  he  covers  up. 

An  earth -filled  pillow  'neath  the  head, 
A  taleth*  'round  the  neck  that's  dead— 
'Tis  all  according  to  the  form 
Of  mystic,  cabalistic  norm ; 


*  The  sacred   garb  used  by   the  orthodox  as'  cover  for  head  and  shoul- 
ders during  prayer. 


•»T 


132 


OTHER  POEMS. 


As  in  the  "  Book  of  Life  "   'tis  writ- 
Named  "  Book  of  Death  "  were  better  fit. 
The  ropes  are  placed,  the  box  let  down 
Into  the  yawning  grave,  afrown. 

Now  men  and  shovels  fill  the  tomb 
With  clay  and  maggots,  night  and  gloom. 
The. grubs,  I  fear,  will  bring  to  naught 
The  resurrection  we  are  taught. 

And  curious  still,  it  seemed  withal 
My  soul  did  hover  o'er  the  pall. 
It  would  abide  on  earth  and  stay 
Until  the  corpse  is  laid  away. 

What  next  became  of  it,  we'll  trust 
The  future  may  reveal,  and  must, 
Until  its  abode,  bad  or  well, 
Is  fixed  for  paradise  or  hell. 

But,  after  all,  I'm  glad  to  say 

I  died  but  in  my  fever.     Ay, 

These  dreams  and  rhymes  I  gladly  give 

A  little  longer  yet  to  live. 


FEBRILE  FRENZIES. 


II. 

Once  more  the  fever  made  me  wander ; 

I  dreamed  another,  loftier  sight: 
My  soul  went  to  the  life  that's  yonder, 

Unto  the  Heavenly  portals  bright. 
Yet  there,  with  quick  perceptive  vision, 
I  noticed  a  most  strange  provision : 

Some  side-doors  stood  ajar ;  these  portals 
Were  sally-points  from  whence  approach 

Long-bearded  saints,  once  living  mortals, 
Who  on  my  trembling  soul  encroach  ; 

And  every  holy,  hoary  father 

His  neighbor  crowds  and  tries  to  bother. 

And  when  I  made  the  exclamation  : 

"Who  opes  the  main  port  unto  me?" 

You  should  have  seen  their  consternation  ! 
Each  one  contends  that  it  was  he, 

If  I  would  own  their  faith  and  power. 

My  answer  made  them  start  and  cower : 

"  My  faith  is  God— God,  One,  Eternal !  " 

And  as  the  words  I  uttered,  lo! 
The  Heavens  opened ;  glory  vernal- 
No  mortal  comprehends  it  so — 


134  OTHER  POEMS. 

Burst  on  my  vivified  conception, 

A  disenthralled  soul's  first  reception. 

A  seraph  came,  and  he  conducted 

Me  to  the  foot  of  God's  High  Throne. 

By  him  I  was  forthwith  instructed 

To  kneel  contrite,  demure,  and  prone. 

My  judgment  will,  as  all  announce, 

The  Heavenly  Father  now  pronounce. 

A  voice,  awful,  sublime,  and  stately, 

Spake    forth    these     words — they     sound 

like  songs — 
"  My  son  !   on  earth  thou  suffered  greatly. 

Thou  wast  a  poet — all  thy  wrongs, 
Though  they  were  many,  are  forgiven ; 
Thou  wast  an  author — enter  Heaven  ! " 
t 

The  angel  my  companion,  nearing, 
A  password  whispered  in  my  ears. 

Through  endless  spaces  we  are  steering — 
For  wings  had  grown  me  unawares — 

He  led  me  thus  to  that  collection 

Inscribed:    "The  Poet's  celestial  section/' 

And  here  he  left  me  as  I  entered. 

My  goodness,  what  a  sight  was  there  !— 


FEBRILE   FRENZIES. 

Soft,  rosy  light,  in  which  was  centered 

Capacious,  but  a  crowded  sphere. 
Watch  held  one  o'er  the  golden  chapter- 
He  seemed  less  poet  than  adapter. 

"What  hast  thou  written?"    he  demanded; 

"The  Febrile  Frenzies'"  I  replied. 
"Read!"    As  the  manuscript  I  handed 

It  quickly  at  my  head  was  shied. 
He  pointed  at  his  stack  of  writing, 
From  which  peered  amours,  crime,  and  fight- 
ing.. 

Were  thus,  then,  all  my  ideals  ending 
Of  song  immortal  in  spirit-lands  ? 

As,  searching,  I  my  head  was  bending, 
In  agony  I  wrung  my  hands! 

Such  trash  in  front !   away  back  hidden 

The  masters,  as  if  here  unbidden. 

Back  to  the  throne  of  God  I  fluttered ; 

Insane  I  stared  and  loudly  cried: 
"  From  Heaven  banish  me !  " — then  muttered, 

"  Such  a  state  Above  as  I  descried. 
I  will  be  damned,  in  hell  be  roasted !  " — 
And  then  awoke,  all  wet,  exhausted. 


OTHER  POEMS. 


III. 

I  had  my  wish— it  makes  me  cower — 
In  Hades  I  was  chained  to  brood 

'Midst  fire  of  the  wildest  power, 

With  flames  for  garments,  coals  for  food. 

But  still  kept  up  rebellious  pondering, 

Nor  murmured,  craven,  with  complaint; 

Ne'er  minding  the  caloric  thundering, 
I  bore  all  patient  like  a  saint. 

Had  only  not  so  noisy  clamored 

Vile  politicians,  priests,  and  kings, 

As    they    were    scorched,   and    pinched,    and 

hammered, 
Till  with  their  howls  inferno  rings. 

Ah !   in  the  pool  of  fire  eternal 

I  noticed  baking  heads  and  hands. 

To  cinders  changed  all  pomp  external, 
Of  bank  and  store,  of  seas  and  lands. 

Oh,  what  a  multitude  of  errors ! 

What  tigers,  once  disguised  as  lambs ! 
The  pious,  trusted,  now  in  terrors ; 

Aflame  pretence,  conceit,  and  shams. 


FEBRILE  FRENZIES. 


But  once  a  week,  comes  Friday  even 

Here,  too,  reigns  quiet,  with  fare  of  fish  ; 

And  unto  every  sinner  given 

Is  then  the  granting  of  one  wish. 


Such  lesson  find  in  the  Agadah, 
Of  high  Talmudic  lore  and  fame  ; 

Yea,  Sabbath-pudding,*  a  panada 

Comes  to  each  sufFrer  all  the  same. 

Thus,  red-hot,  time  was  quickly  flying. 

Of  wings  deprived,  I  had  to  roast. 
My  wrath  calcined;    up  went  defying, 

In  fire,  all  anger,  pride,  and  boast. 

When  Friday  came  around,  as  usual 
My  old  friend  seraph  neared,  and  he 

This  time  met  not  with  a  refusal 
In  offering  kindness  unto  me. 

On  earth  I  had  left  dearest  kindred, 

Who  must  have  learned  that  I  was  dead. 

Oh  !    that  I  were  no  longer  hinder'd 

To   soothe    their   hearts,  which  must  have 
bled. 

*  A  Jewish  dish  well  known  by  the  name  of  "  Kuchel.  ' 
17 


rv   138 


OTHER  POEMS. 


I  would  for  once  ask  the  permission 
Returning  to  yon  mundane  sphere  ; 

Could  such  be  done  on  the  decision 

That  I  might  wing  myself  from  here. 

Therefore  I  asked  if  he  objected 
His  pinions  for  a  while  to  spare  ? 

When  instantly  I  too  detected 

They  grew  upon  my  shoulders  bare. 

And  quick  I  flew.  It  needed  flying 
In  my  old  German  fatherland. 

An  angel  would  be  law- defying, 
Were  not  a  passport  in  his  hand. 

The  Lord  Himself  they  would  imprison 
If  He  committed  such  offence. 

So,  turning  upwards,  I  had  risen 

And  reached  my  old  home-residence. 

Hark  !     Midnight !    every  one  is  sleeping, 
Except  my  sorrowing  people,  who 

Their  pillows  drench  with  bitter  weeping, 
As  only  parents  can  and  do. 


FEBRILE  FRENZIES. 

Then  slowly,  softly  I  fanned  slumber 
Upon  their  tear-sore,  weary  eyes. 

Asleep  their  heart-aches,  cruel,  somber, 
To  soothed  consoling  prayers  rise. 

Low-bending,  their  beloved  features, 

I  saw  them,  as  in  years  ago. 
Time,  these  adored  and  dear  creatures 

Had  kindly  dealt  with,  spite  their  woe. 


And  now,  in  accents  mild  and  tender, 
I  whispered  in  their  ears  this  strain: 

"  Dust  all,  we  unto  dust  surrender, 
But  by  God's  mercy  meet  again  !  " 

Alas  !    I  meanwhile  thought  in  terror 
Of  my  confounded,  cruel  fate  ; 

Of  retribution,  sin,  and  error. 
I   rose  again,  for  it  grew  late. 


Poor  seraph  !     I  indeed  feel  sorry  ! 

Thou  wilt  not  soon  behold  me  more. 
Without  thy  wings  wilt  have  to 

Below  in  waiting,  sad  and  sore. 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Too  far  on  high  I  rose;   already 

Had  sun  and  moon  and  comets  scored. 

When   wide  I  'woke,  was  calm  and  steady, 
And  fully,  God  be  thanked,  restored  ! 

And  now  that  I  can  calmly  ponder, 
May  not  our  whole  theology, 

Our  speculations  on  the  Yonder, 
Such  dreams  of  fever-frenzy  be  ? 

Lord  !  grant  that  when  we  wake  hereafter, 
We  fully  be  restored  and  well ; 

That  we  may  mix  our  tears  and  laughter 
On  our  conceits  of  Heaven  and  Hell. 


:»n   ^"ir=sg^^ 
I 

THE  GERMAN  VOLUNTEER. 


THE    GERMAN    VOLUNTEER,    (1862.) 

AMONG  the   maimed   and   slaughtered 
In   the   field    of  fierce  contest, 
One   of  the   dying   soldiers — 

Shot   through   and   through    his   breast — 
Supported    by    his    musket,    he 

Convulsively   did   rise ; 
Death    rattled   in    his   throat,   and   loud 
Yet   tremulous  he   cries  : 

"  I    came   across   the   ocean. 

At   home  I've   been   a  slave. 
I   fought   and   die   for   liberty, 

And   find  a   freeman's   grave  ! 
And    if   I   had   ten   thousand    lives 

I'd   sacrifice   them   all 
Ere   I    would   see    the  Stars   and    Stripes 

A   prey   to   traitors   fall. 

"  Adieu,    my    wife   and  children 

Whom    I   abroad    have   left  ! 
The   God   of  babes   and   widows 

Protect  you,   now   bereft ! 


142 


OTHER  POEMS. 


And    when   hereafter   peace   returns, 

Columbia,    ne'er   forget 
That   many   a   sod    beneath   thy    feet 

With   foreign    blood    is    wet. 

"  May    Heaven   guide   this   struggle, 

And   keep   the   country   free  — 
On   earth    the   only    refuge 

For   life   and    liberty. 
The    Union   one   forever!  —  'gain 

On    high    the   eagle   soar  !  " 
Thus   shouts   the    German  volunteer, 

And   falls   and  is   no   more. 


He   saw   not,   knew   not,    'round    him 

Did   silently   gather   then, 
In   deep  and    sad   emotion, 

General,  staff,   and  men. 
They    bore    him    on   their    muskets    thence- 

Brave   soldier's   envied   bier  — 
And   buried    him   on   the   battle-field 
:  With    many   a   sigh   and   tear. 


A  COURT  SCENE. 


143 


A    COURT    SCENE. 

(FROM  AN  ACTUAL    OCCURRENCE.") 


M 


AY    so    it    please    your    honor,    my 

own  case  I  would   plead. 
Assign   me  no  attorney  :     I  have   no   lawyers 
need. 


And,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,   my   words    may 

be  uncouth, 

I'll   tell  the  truth  ! — I've   sworn — and   nothing 
•but  the   truth  : 

I've    killed    the    man — I    own   it;  my  weapon 

there  you  see  ; 
And   when  you've    heard   my  story  you    may 

do  as  you  please  with  me. 

Low   creature  they   call   me ;    I   know   it,  my 

name  is  not  of  the  best ; 
But   still   I   am   a   woman,    with  feelings    and 

rights  of  the  rest. 


OTHER  POEMS. 


My    eyes   and   features   reveal   it,    as   true   as 

God  stamped  Cain's  ; 
Indian  blood   and   passion   run    hotly  through 

my  veins. 

You  know  my  husband  left  me — it  was  before 

I  fell. 
Abandoned,  with  hung^  children,  what  others 

would  do,  you  tell. 

The   night   when   this  deed    I  committed,  my 

youngest  one  lay  sick 
With  burning,  raging  fever  ;    her  breath  came 

hot  and  thick. 

There   stands   the   doctor  who   told    me    with 

rest  and   nursing  she'd  live; 
A  mother,  I  trusted  fondly  in  his  restorative. 

When  outside,  with   boisterous   clamor,  crazy 

with  drink  and  lust, 
At  midnight  the  man  insisted  that  enter  my 

house  he  must. 

With  tears  I  begged,  I  implored  him  not  to 

disturb  our  peace, 
But  to   the   purpose   only   to   make   his   rage 

increase. 


.  / 

fl 

' 


A  COURT  SCENE. 


He  swore  and  raved ;  he  clamored  and 
threatened — then  perfectly  wild— 

If  the  door  I'd  not  quickly  open  he'd  kill 
me  and  the  child. 


And   then   he    fell  in  his  fury  to    batter  down 

the  lock ; 
I    cannot    tell    now   was    it    with    hammer   01 

a  rock. 

I  could   not  bear  it  longer;  with  none  to  help 

me  near, 
Frantic,  grasped    my  weapon,  and   its   report 

I  hear. 


What  happened  next  I  know  not,  but  see,  the 

man  is  dead; 
It   fits   my   pistol's   barrel,  from  out  his  heart 

the  lead. 


If    any   of    my   sisters    condemn    my   life    of 

shame, 
With   Christian   indignation   a  wicked   woman 

blame, 
18 


146 


OTHER  POEMS. 


She  throw  the  first  stone  upon  me ;  but  I  do 

not   refrain 
To  vow,  the   outrage   repeated,  that   I  would 

shoot   again! 

Such,  gentlemen,   is  my   story  !     My  life  is  in 

your  hand ; 
Bring  in  your  verdict  justly,  as  law  and  right 

demand. 

But  judge  me  as  a  mother  ;   if  I  have  acted 

wild — 
Ah  !    I   see   tears  here  flowing — I  did   protect 

my  child ! 

You  will  not  leave  the  court-room — you  have 

made  up  your  mind  ? 
"  Not  guilty,"  says  the  foreman ;   you  all  this 

verdict  find  ? 


I'm  free?    may  go?      God    bless   you!      And 

now  at  once  for  home ; 
My  heart  yearns  for  my  baby.     Come,  doctor, 

quickly  come ! 


REMORSE. 


147 


REMORSE. 

THE  dreary  night  drags  slowly  by — 
Will  it  be  never  morning? 
Like  mockery  or  scorning 
Has  hovered  'round,  now  far,  now  nigh, 
The  sleep  I  covet ;   but  the  eye 
Is  aching,  painful  burning. 

There  was  a  time  I,  too,  enjoyed 
The  balm  of  peaceful  slumber — 
Now  all  is  dark  and  sombre  ; 
For  since  I  wilfully  destroyed 
My  better  self,  by  sin  decoyed, 
My  woes  are  without  number. 

Look  over  there — on  yonder  wall, 

Where  night-lamp  rays  are  crawling, 
A  sight  which  is  appalling. 
The  words  stick  in  my  throat — I'd  call— 
O  Heaven  !  is  there  no  grace  at  all 
For  one  who  has  been  falling? 

My  feverish  hands  run  through  my  hair. 
That  foul  deed's  apparition, 


In  sitting,  stark  position 


148 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Involuntar'ly  from  my  lair 
It  draws  me  ;  like  insane  I  stare, 
And  there  behold  perdition. 

Curst  and  condemned! — I  hear  it  coarse. 

My  pulse  grows  thin  and  thinner. 

Ah  !  Satan  has  been  winner. 
Curst    and    condemned!  —  a     voice     speaks 

hoarse ! 
I  scream  in  anguish  and  remorse  : 

God  pity  a  poor  sinner! 


NEVER,  NEVER,  NEVER! 

A  WANTON    shot  of  a  cruel   hand 
Brought  down  the  eagle  from  on  high, 
Crippling  his  wings.     He  flapped  the  sand, 
In  vain  endeavoring  still  to  fly, 
His  shrieks  all  agony,  a  strain 
Methought  it  was — the  wild  refrain  : 
"  My  pure,  blue  sky,  forever 
Our  ties  we  must  now  sever, 
For  I  can  reach  thee  never — never — never  !  " 


f^O4 

m 


NEVER,    NEVER,    NEVER! 


149 


While  furious  gusts  the  waters  lashed 

And  rolled  them  back  far  out  of  reach, 
One  of  the  finny  tribe  was  dashed, 

By  storm,  high  on  the  rocky  beach  ; 
Mute,  eloquent  the  writhing  pain 
Spoke  dying,  gasping  the  refrain  : 
"  My  pure,  green  ocean,  ever 
Our  ties  we  must  now  sever, 
For  I  can  reach  thee  never — never — never!" 

More  sad  than  these,   I  saw  a  sight — 
A  man,  a  human  being,  wrecked, 
All  battling  in  a  deathly  fight; 

For  feign  he'd  rise,  but  e'er  was  checked 
By  cruel  fate.     His  heart  and  brain, 
All  full  of  song,  moaned  the  refrain : 
"  My  pure,  high  home,   forever 
Our  ties  we  must  now  sever, 
For  I  can  reach  thee  never — never — never  !  " 


150 


o 


OTHER  POEMS. 

A   CENTENNIAL  POEM— 1876.  * 

NE    hundred   years   only — one   hundred 


years — 

The  fathers  of  this  nation, 
'Midst  hope  and  trembling,  trust  and    fears, 

Signed  Freedom's  glorious  proclamation. 
In  history's  annals  'tis  but  like  a  day- 
One  hundred  years  only  have  passed  away  ! 

From    world's   end    to    world's   end   the    mes- 
sage flew  forth, 

To  oppressed  of  all  classes  and   people, 
From  East  to  West,  from  South  to  North, 
From     city     to     hamlet,     from     palace     to 

steeple. 

Men  welcomed   it  fervently  near  and  far; 
All  hailed  it — "  Liberty's  morning  star !  " 

Degraded  pigmies  of  a  giant  race, 

How  have  you  guarded  the  treasure? 

Look  at  our  realm,  its  shame  and  disgrace. 
It  overflows  the  long-filled  measure 

Of  misery,  suff'ring,  starvation,  and 

Crime  stalking  brazen  through  the  land. 

*  At  the  time  when  this  was  written,  as  nearly  everybody  will  remember, 
the  country  was  in  a  most  deplorable  condition. 


A  CENTENNIAL 


—  1876. 


Fanaticism  and  bigotry 

All  nooks  and  corners  are  filling. 
The  dollar's  almighty  monopoly 

The  people's  blood  is  distilling. 
Vile  politicians  govern  the  state, 
And  dramshops  rule  the  Republic's  fate. 

Justice  is  blind,  and  deaf,  and  dumb  ; 

Law  is  but  trick  and  contrivance  ; 
Truth  only  is  honored  if  bringing  a  crumb 

Of  gain  from  lie  and  connivance  ; 
And  patriotism  means  now  —  the  woe  !— 
Corruption  in  office,  high  and  low. 

There  once  was  a  time  —  the  trembling    lip 

Owns  up  the  sad  reflection  — 
To  boast  American  citizenship 

Meant  safety,  honor,  and  protection  ; 
While  now  the  pettiest  tyrant  must 
The  "  Stars  and  Stripes  "  trail  in  the  dust. 

Shall  we,  then,  perish  ?     Must  we  go  down, 
Suicides  cursed  by  damnation? 

Despots'  stigma,  Liberty's  frown, 
A  byword  —  is  there  no  salvation? 

Devoid  of  hearts,  of  brains  and  hands, 

Bearing  the  triflers'  and  cowards'  brands? 


152  0  THER  POEMS. 

Spirit  of  Washington,  Franklin,  and  Clay, 

Spirit  of  martyr  and  hero, 
Help  us  on  High  !  and,  if  you  may, 

Send  us  the  man — be  it  Cato  or  Nero— 
To  raise  this  people  from  lethargy 
And  drive  from  the  temple  the  Pharisee. 

One  hundred  years  hence,  then — one  hundred 

years— 

When  thus  is  saved  the  nation, 
'Midst  hopes  and  trembling,  trust  and  fears, 
Saved  Freedom's  glorious  proclamation  ! 
One    hundred    years    hence — blessed    be    that 

day, 
From  history  never  to  pass  away  ! 


THE  COLLECTOR'S  WIFE. 


153 


I 


THE  COLLECTOR'S  WIFE. 

A    TRUE   STORY. 

'M      dressed     and     waiting;     supper     is 

ready  ;  the  house  is  in  trim  and  fix. 
He  told  me  he  would  be  home  at   even — and 

now  'tis  nearly  six. 
The  cakes  and   cookies  and  dishes  I've  made 

he  likes  so  well  : 

Man    loves   a    woman   better,  if  his   taste   she 
knows  to  tell. 

"  Hurrah !      I     hear     his     Bessy's     neighing! 

Hark !  he  comes  not  alone  ! 
I     wonder    who    is    his    company — and — how 

long  ere  they'll  be  gone  ? 
I  rather  had  been  without  strangers;  I   know 

it  is  selfish  and  sin- 
Not  him?   For  the  first  time  mistaken!    They 

rap.     Come  in — come  in  ! 

"'What    would    ye    with    me?       O    Heaven! 

masked    faces !      My    husband    is    gone, 

but  then 
You  will  not  harm  a  helpless    woman,  if  you 

are  American   men ! 


154 


OTHER  POEMS. 


The  money  he  has  collected?  the  Govern- 
ment's revenue? 

Kill  me!  but  tell  I'll  never  where  'tis  hid- 
den ;  see  if  I  do ! 

"  *  He    placed    it   in  my   charge    and  keeping, 

leaving  home — a  trust 
Which  while  I  live  I'll  not  give  over!      Try, 

if  you  dare  and  must! 
Ye  twist  those  ropes  so  tightly,  they  cut   to 

the  bone  my  hands. 
I    would     not    more     have     resisted     without 

those  cruel  bands.' 

"  They're    gone    to    search    the    house.       I'd 

scream,  but,  alas  !  no  one  is  nigh. 
They    will   not   find   the   hidden   treasure,    let 

them  till  doomsday  try  ! 
Would   that   returned    my   husband    and    see 

me  suffer  here  ! 
I'm    shaking    in    my    agony    'twixt    pain,    and 

hope,  and  fear. 

"Hark!    hark!   they've   found    the   coffer.      It 

staggers  all  belief. 
Disgraced   will   be   as  a  defaulter   the  man    I 

love — a  thief! 


THE  COLLECTOR'S  WIFE, 


The  Government  will  denounce  him,  all  in 
his  innocence. 

Enough  is  money  missing,  convicting  evi- 
dence. 

"  My   limbs  are   free  again ;    they   bid    me   to 

give  them  supper  quick. 
An  interposition  of  Heaven   clearly,  1   see  in 

this  foolish  trick  : 
These   rogues    tempt    God    their    wickedness 

to  punish  ;   and,  behold ! 
I    am   His    humble    instrument   our  honor  to 

uphold. 

"  'Tis  awful !   they  jest   and  they  make   merry 

so  near  the  brink  of  death ! 
I    see    it    work    already    in    each    short    and 

heaving  breath : 
The     poison     is     creeping     surely     and     fatal 

through  blood  and  brain. 
They're   dying   and   expiring!      I'm    safe   and 

free  again. 

"Now    quick   ,1    will    unmask    these    villains, 
who   thus    their    sex    disgrace; 

Perhaps-  that  I  can  recognize  one  or  the- 
other's  face. 


156 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Not    one   of    all     I'm     knowing — here    is    the 

very  last — 
His  mask  off,  too!      I'll  see  him,  since  danger 

all  is  past. 

"  O  horrible  sight!  O  cruel  vision!  It  can- 
not, cannot  be — 

My  all,  my  loved  one,  O  my  husband  !  in 
this  dread  company. 

Body  and  soul,  and  safety,  love,  happiness, 
all  gone  by  ; 

Housebreaker  he  and  robber,  and  I,  his  mur- 
deress— I !  " 

Frenzied,    with    hair    dishevelled    and    flying, 

with  countenance  ghastly  and  pale. 
She    reaches,    panting,   a    magistrate's    office, 

and  tells  her  fearful  tale. 
Her   eyes    are    rolling    wildly,   her   limbs   and 

body  shake ; 
Madness  follows   her  footsteps,   and    Death    is 

in  her  wake. 

Then  as  she  staggers  blind,  and  prostrate, 
expiring,  falls  to  the  floor, 

Maniac-like,  in  the  midst  of  people,  she  sud- 
denly rises  once  more, 


' 


THE  RUSSIAN  EXILE. 


157 


With  an  effort  wild  and  convulsive,  until  she 

is  on  her  knees, 
Broken    exclaiming    in    prayer,    as    if  inspired 

she  sees: 

.1 
"  Have    mercy,  Lord,  on    us    poor  sinners,  in 

love  instead  of  right ! 
Oh !    help    us   stray  ones ;    make   dark   places 

with  Thine  forgiveness  light. 
My  hus — band — !  *'      And    she   mingles  a   tear 

with  her  last  breath, 
A     loving,     tender     woman,     beautiful     unto 

death. 


O 


THE  RUSSIAN   EXILE. 

YE,   who    know    what    spell    contains 

the  little  word   of  home, 
May    ne'er    ye    feel    the    bitterness   alone    the 

world  to  roam, 
Without  a  country,  and    without  a   friend    or 

loving  tie, 

As   now   the   Russian   Exile   must,    a    maiden 
doomed  as  I :  •-...-• 


158 


OTHER  POEMS. 


"  A  stranger  in  a  foreign  land  with  language 
ne'er  my  own, 

Like  tree  torn  from  its  native  soil  wherein 
its  youth  had  grown— 

Qne  who  was  reared  in  plenty's  lap,  midst 
luxury  and  ease ; 

Now  thrown  a  pauper  on  the  world,  de- 
prived of  rest  and  peace. 

"  Deprived    of    all    men    value    dear,    naught, 

naught  is  left  for  me 
Except  the  horror-striking  claws  of  anguished 

memory. 
That   I   but  might,  that   I    but   could,    events 

just  past  forget; 
That  I  could  veil  in  blackest  night  the   cruel 

fate  I  met  ; 

"  Could  I  forget  how  men  like  wolves  and 
tigers  ravenous  grew, 

And  father,  mother,  kin  and  friends,  in  their 
wild  frenzy,  slew  ; 

When  axe  and  sickle  ceased  their  work,  how 
they,  in  ghoulish  ire, 

The  loved  corpses  pitiless  threw  in  the  rag- 
ing fire  ; 


THE  R  US  SI  AN  EXILE.  I  5  9 

"  How  they  compelled  me,  yet  a  child,  to 
hush  my  moans  and  shrieks — 

Look  here,  their  nail-prints  in  my  arm  they 
dug  in  brutal  freaks  ! 

0  God!    O  God!    the  memory  it  cleaves  my 

heart  in  twain  ; 

The  recollections  of  my  mind,  they'll  drive 
me  yet  insane. 

"  Behold,  my   hair   is    bleached    in    youth ;    it 

has  grown  silver-white. 
No  tongue  will  ever  tell  the  tale,  the   horror 

of  that  night. 
When  unsexed  women  swore  and  raved,  they 

swore  and  raved  I  must, 
Right  in  their  presence,  fall  a  prey  to  carnal, 

brutal  lust. 

""  I    in    my   terror   and   despair  shrieked    loud 

for  death  or  aid, 
When  strength  came  o'er  me  suddenly.     Like 

tigress  undismay'd 

1  fought.     I    snatched  the  axe   from  one   next 

me ;    I  smote  her  dead, 

And,  'midst  their  consternation  blank,  into 
the  night  I  fled. 


1 60 


OTHER  POEMS. 


"  The  forest  jungle  was  more  kind  than  aught 

to  me  had  been. 
For     weeks     I    dwelt    in     hidden     cave,    like 

beasts  live  in  their  den ; 
I    suffered    hunger,    parched    with    thirst — and 

all  this  my  own  choice. 
I  dreaded  nothing  more  than  hear  footfall   of 

man,  or  voice. 

*•  I    dared    not    sleep — I    cannot    sleep,  for   in 

my  haunted  dreams 
The  whole  dread   tragedy  will   come   o'er  me 

again,  it  seems. 
At  length  philanthropists  abroad,  touched   by 

the  cruel  shame, 
Succeeded   in  their   efforts,  they  soon    to   our 

rescue  came. 


"  Thus     I    was    saved     and     brought     secure 

across  the  ocean  here. 
Oh  !  thanks,  kind  friends  ;    I  see  that   you  for 

me  will  shed  a  tear. 
My    eyes    with    weeping     have    grown    dry ; 

they  feel  so  hot  and  sore — 
My  tears    ran  so  incessantly.      Henceforth   I'll 

weep  no  more. 


RUSSIAN  EXILE. 


i6i 


"  And  why  came  all  this  misery  on  my  de- 
voted head  ? 

Why  moulder  in  uncounted  graves  our  poor 
unnumbered  dead  ? 

Why  have  the  mobs,  the  craven  mobs,  in 
fury  risen  wild? 

Why  despots  did  permit  to  kill  so  mother 
and  so  child  ? 

"  O  God  of  Israel!  for  Thee  —  for  Thee  we 
suffered  all. 

For  our  religion  we  again,  again  as  martyrs 
fall, 

As  martyrs  in  this  age  of  light — so  called — 
humane  and  kind, 

While  Russia  tramps  on  human  rights,  fanati- 
cally blind  ! 

"  I  have  been  taught  from  early  youth  not  for 

revenge  to  pray, 
'  For   vengeance    is   the    Lord's  ' — is    His,    my 

pious  teachers  say. 
But    here   upon  my  knees    I    lie   and    Sabaoth 

implore  : 
O  Host  of  Justice  !  be  Thou  just  unto  Thine 

own  once  more ! 

20 


?       1 62 


OTHER  POEMS. 


"  Nay,  God  have  pity  on  their  souls !  No  man 
could  bear  the  weight 

That  must  be  due  to  such  as  those  with  all 

their  dreadful  freight  \  | 

Of  tears,  of  blood,  of  pangs  and  pain,  of  tor- 
tured and  of  slain. 

Have  pity,  God,  upon  their  souls,  nor  let 
me  pray  in  vain  ! 

"  Thou  hast  permitted  for  some  good  our  per- 
secutors' wrath, 

No  doubt  to  lead  Thy  people  'gain  upon 
their  mission's  path. 

Still,  thanks  to  Thee !  in  my  great  need  I 
found  Thee  true,  my  God, 

'Midst  Israel  in  America  —  my  Adonoy- 
Echod ! " * 

*  God  the  One. 


THE  ORPHAtf  ASYL  UM  IN  VIENNA .       163 


THE   ORPHAN  ASYLUM   IN  VIENNA. 

THE   Emp'ror  Josef  of  Austria — the   one 
of  Hapsburg's  clan 
Who  never  had   forgotten  a   prince   is  still   a 

hian, 
Who  gained  and  valued    people's   love  as   his 

most  prized  demesne^- 

Incognito  did  oft  traverse  his  capital,  old 
"  Wien."  * 

Relieved  from  flattering  courtiers,  from  poli- 
ticians free, 

His  eyes  behold  all  stages  of  human  misery  \ 

Of  suffering,  hardship,  wrong,  and  woe, 
which  undisguised  appear. 

Injustice  then  was  oft  redressed,  and  dried 
up  many  a  tear. 

On  such  an  expedition,  as  once  the  Emperor 

went, 
He  met  an  aged  sexton,  who  'neath  a  burden 

bent. 

*  The  German  name  for  Vienna. 


OTHER  POEMS, 

Morose  and  solitary,  the  man  moved  slow 
and  sore ; 

A    little    coffin    of    rough    boards    he    on    his 

1 
shoulder  bore. 

His  sympathy  awakened,  the  Monarch  gently 
says: 

"  What  child  is  this  you  carry  unto  its  rest- 
ing-place ? 

Is  no  one  there  to  mourn  the  dead — no  father, 
mother,  kin  ? 

No  sorry  heart,  no  tearful  eye?  It  is  a  shame 
and  sin!  " 

"  Alas ! "  thus  is  made  answer,  with  gruff, 
sardonic  laugh, 

"  An  orphan  boy  I  bury ;  his  parents'  beggar- 
staff 

Was  all  he  e'er  possessed  on  earth  when 
found  in  fever's  grasp 

Upon  the  pavement  of  the  street.  '  Bread  ! ' 
was  his  dying  gasp !  " 

"  Oh,  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  !  "  the  deep- 
moved  sovereign  cried  ; 

"  A  child  in  Christian  country  has  of  starva- 
tion died  !  " 


ORPHAN  ASYLUM  IN  VIENNA.       165 

He  follows  mourning  to  the  grave,  devoutly 
praying  there, 

As  sorry  as  if  the  deceased  one  of  his  kin- 
dred were. 

And  when   the   little  mound   was   erected   on 

the  ground, 
His    Majesty    yet    lingers,   kneels    down,   like 

one  spell-bound. 
With    upraised    eyes    and    folded    hands,   the 

sunset  on  his  brow, 
Resembling  saint  or  angel,  he   did  make  this 

solemn  vow : 

"  Ne'er  shall  again  my  empire  disgraced  be 
and  defiled  ; 

For  bread  ne'er  cry  to  Heaven  a  hungry 
orphan  child 

Within  my  realm  —  so  help  me  God  when 
comes  my  life's  last  hour!" 

Most  nobly  was  the  promise  kept,  with  bless- 
ings' fullest  show'r. 

The  Emp'ror   Josef    of    Austria   had  many    a 

monument  built ; 
His   noble   deeds   are    written    in   marble   and 

in  gilt; 


1 66 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Yet  long  when  these  have  perished   lives  his 

mem'ry,  graced  and  green, 
As    founder    of    the  "  Orphan  Home "    which 

bears  his  name  in  "  Wien." 


THE   ORIGIN  OF   THE  DIAMOND.* 

LISTEN  to  the  curious  story 
How  the  Diamond  in  its  glory 
Grew  amidst  the  giant  blocks 
In  the  strata  of  the   rocks; 
How  the  precious  stone  was  wrought 
From"  a  spark  of  light  and  thought ; 
Love-light  shining  on   our  earth. 
In  a  tear  the  gem   had   birth. 
Thought,  to  light  and  love  obedient, 
Its  most  pure  and  prized  ingredient. 

As  from  presence  of  the  Lord 
Satan  and  his  rebel  horde, 
By  ambition  wild  and  fell, 
Hurled  were  into  deepest  hell — 

*  Oriental  Legends,  written  after  the  others  were  in  print. 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  DIAMOND. 

Doomed  to  fire,  fear,  and  pain, 
Without  sunshine,  light,  or  rain — 
Mercy,  the  bright  angel,  crept 
To  the  throne  of  God  and  wept 
A  hot  tear,  in  deep  prostration, 
E'en  for  Hades'  last  salvation. 

And  this  drop,  so  tells  the  story, 
Grew  a  jewel  in  its  glory, 
Falling  'midst  the  giant  blocks 
In  the  strata  of  the  rocks. 
As   an  emblem  it  was  wrought, 
Sparkling  light,  and  love,  and  thought. 
Crystallized  proclaims  the  tear, 
Final  quenching  fire  and  fear! 
Heaven's  promise,  Mercy's  token, 
Are,  like  diamonds,  never  broken. 


g^r 


1 68 


OTHER  POEMS. 


URIEL  DA  COSTA. 

[A  Jewish  refugee  from  Portugal,  where  he  and  his  family  had  been  forced 
into  Catholicism.  On  arriving  in  Amsterdam  he  rejoined  Judaism.  Soon, 
however,  by  his  free-thought,  he  came  in  conflict  with  the.Rabbins,  and  had  to 
do  public  penance.  Mortified  by  this  humiliation,  he  killed  himself,  A.D.  1644.] 

CURSED  by  the  holy  Synagogue, 
Is  he  a  sinner,  knave,  or  rogue  ? 

With  folded  hands,   but  knitted  brow, 
Before  the  Rabbins  he  does  bow  ; 

A  culprit,   made  to  bend   his  knee 
In  shame  and  penance.     Who  is  he? 

A  man  who,  in   the  dark  of  night,. 
Has  seen  the  dawning  of  the  light. 

By  glorious  visions  all  inspired, 
The  house  of  prejudice  he   fired. 

Not  asking  how  it  burn   and  scorch, 
He  lit  and  waved  the  flaming  torch, 

And  narrow-mindedness  felt  weak. 
Oh !  how  the  hypocrites  did  shriek. 

And  how  fanatics  clamored  wild, 
"  ' Sanctum  Sanctorum'  is  denied!" 

Thus  loud  goes  forth  their  hue  and  cry  ! 
Will  might  prevail,  and  tyranny  ? 


URIEL  DA    COSTA. 


The  grand  "  Sanhedrin  "  does  decree : 
"  Renounce  thy  false  philosophy  ! 

"  A  heretic  thou  art,  defamed  ; 

The  Cherem  godoul*  we  proclaimed!" 

Who  in  that  malediction  stays 
Were  better   dead  those  cruel  days, 

When  ignorance  takes  quick  in  hand 
What  superstition  does  command  ; 

Of  all  the  stiff-necked,  stubborn  crew, 
The  worst  is  a  fanatic  Jew. 

The  people  and  their  priests  combine  ; 
They  have  him  at  the  sacred  shrine. 

All  too  unequal  is  the  fight — 

They   bid  him  say  that  wrong  is  right! 

And  though  his  heart  and  soul  be  rent, 
They  made  him  own  it :  "I  repent !  " 

Repent  he  said,  the  book  records ; 
He  spoke  the  bitter,  hateful  words. 

Upon  his  neck  they  placed  their  feet, 
Hrs  humiliation  to  complete. 

*  The  anathema  of  the  Rabbins  in  former  times  when  they  had 
ecclesiastical  jurisdiction. 
21 


^      ^n     ^.^ 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Nor  Moses  nor  the  Prophets  cite 
Such   Catholic-inquisition  rite. 

But  Israelites  in  Holland  try 
What  Spanish   monks  but  justify  ; 

Which  proves  :  no  folly  is  so  great 
Blind  zealots   will  not  imitate. 

But  while  at  times  men  have  been  hushed, 
The  Truth  proclaimed,  was  never  crushed  ! 

Such  seed  once  sown  will  grow  along 
For  harvest  sure,  almighty  strong! 

The  little  souls  their  work  have  done  ; 
They  thought  extinguished  was  the  sun, 

Since  they  had  shut  their  sleepy  eyes 
And  grinned  so  mighty  and  so  wise. 

But  though  ere  this  men  had  been  hushed, 
God's  truth  proclaimed,  is  never  crushed  ! 

Thus  while  their  victim's  heart  ached  sore, 
Da  Costa's  name  lives  evermore. 


DOCTOR'S  PANEGYRIC. 


171 


A   DOCTOR'S  PANEGYRIC 

BEFORE   THE  ANNUAL  MEDICO  SOCIETY. 

T     ADIES   and   Sirs !     Most  welcome  here, 

J 4     dear  friends  ; 

And  while  I'd   make  for  my  poor  words  and 

rhymes  amends, 
Pray    give    ye    close    attention    for    the    task 

assigned, 

To  eulogize  our  calling — one  most  high   and 
kind, 

The  noblest  of  all  missions : 
Profession  of  Physicians. 

Not   that   I    would  attempt   to  slur  or  under- 
rate 

Other  crafts  and  arts.     Society  and  state, 
Mankind     for     its     development     and     fullest 

strength 

Requires    them,    too,    in     fullest    width,   and 
height,  and  length. 

Bless  all  that  break  a  fetter 
Or  make  us  nobler,  better ! 


172 


OTHER  POEMS. 


But     thrice    blest     certainly    should     be     the 

earnest  man, 

Devoting  all  his  life,  whate'er  he  is  and  can, 
To    alleviate    the    pangs  and    suff'ring  of  our 

kind  — 

The    sick,  the    weak,  the    halt,  the    lame 
blind, 

The  sore  in  heart  and  feeling  — 
By  the  great  art  of  healing. 


There   is   no  season,  hot   or   cold,  the   doctor 

may 
Look   for  his   ease  or   comfort.     In   stormiest 

night  or  day 
He    must    be    ready    at    a    patient's    slightest 

call. 
Hungry,  thirsty,  though  the    eyes  with   sleep 

may   fall, 

None  of  all   these   are   heeded, 
He's   at   his   post   when   needed. 


For  wisdom  to   High   Heaven  he  directs  his 

eye. 
He  watches   close   and    reads  the   changes   of 

the  sky. 


•e. 


A  DOCTOR'S  PANEGYRIC. 


173 


Into    the    bowels    of    the    earth     he    arduous 

dives 

For    treasures    there     concealed     which     will 
save  human  lives. 

All  nature  he'll  explore, 
Health  failing  to  restore. 

The   min'rals    turn    to   medicines    at    his  .  be- 
hest. 

The    vegetable   realm  gives   balm   at    his    re- 
quest. 

The  animal  kingdom,  too,  waits  his  command 
To  turn  restorative  at  his  benignant  hand. 
>  E'en  poison's  deathly  ranges 
Into  health-power  he  changers. 

Have    ever    you    been    vouchsafed,  closely   to 
behold 

The    anxious     looks     of    all     the     household, 
young  and  old. 

When  o'er  the  baby-suff'rer   their   kind   doc- 
tor bends  and  bides  ? 

He   counts  the  pulse  ;   all  breathless  wait   till 
he  decides  : 

Is  pet  to  live?   God  save  her! 
Or  go  to  Him  who  gave  her? 


174 


OTHER  POEMS. 


Have  e'er  you  stood   close  by  when  mother, 

seeming  low, 
In    fever's    grasp,   her   waning    breath    comes 

hot  and  slow  ; 
When    husband,    sons,  and    daughters    silent, 

tearful  pray 
Her  to  be  safe,  and  hear    at   last  the  doctor 

say, 

"  Thank  Heaven,   I  fear  no  longer—- 
The crisis  left  her  stronger  "  ? 

And  oh !  the  grief  and  sorrow  when,  in  spite 
of  skill 

And    all    that   can    be    done    by    science    and 
best  of  will, 

At  last  grim  Death  will  claim  the  suff'rer  as 
his  own, 

Amidst   the    woe,  the    tears,  the   sobs,    heart- 
rending groan, 

Dumbfounded,   mute  appealing — 
Ay,  doctors  too  have  feeling  ! 

Many  an  hour  and  many  a  day  is  thus  made 

sad 
In  vigils  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.     And 

add 


A  DOCTOR'S  PANEGYRIC. 


175 


That    this    oft    happens   'midst   the    ranks    of   * 

veriest  poor — 

An  evil   for  which    there   seems   neither   help 
nor  cure- 
Take  all  in  all,  and  can   we 
The  good  profession  envy? 

Still,  our  reward   is:   duty  well  and  true  per- 
formed ; 

Grief  stilled  that  in  some  bosom  wildly  raged 
and  stormed  ; 

Tears  dried    which  would   in  anguish  all   un- 
bidden flow ; 

And    pallid     cheeks    with    health    and    color 
made  to  glow. 

Unselfish  satisfaction, 

Man's  best  of  thought  and  action! 

To  strengthen  such  great  purpose,  foster  such 

high  ends, 
Assemble,    here    in    council   yearly,    all    true 

friends. 
Once  more,  then,  welcome  !     Let  us  prove  by 

work  combined 

To  elevate  our  calling — one  most  high  and  kind, 
The  noblest  of  all  missions : 
Profession  of  Physicians. 


176 


OTHER  POEMS. 


AN    APPEAL    TO    AMERICA 

AGAINST  SECTARIAN  AGITATIONS. 

THOU,     too,    great,     glorious,     free-born 
dame, 

Art  urged  to  black  thy  unstained  name, 
With  persecution's  foulest  shame. 

Thou,  too,  upon  thy  favored  soil, 
Art  called  upon  to  join  the  spoil 
For  which  barbarians  toiled  and  toil. 


The  Nineteenth  Century  looks  on 
With  all  it  has  for  mankind  done, 
And  trembles  for  thy  victories  won. 

Thy  heroes  dead,  in  reverenced  graves 
O'er  which  immortal  triumph  waves, 
Fanaticism  taunts  and  braves. 

The  grandest  of  prerogative, 
Thy  great  palladium,  conceive 
Torn,  desecrated,  positive, 


AN  APPEAL  TO  AMERICA.  I  77 

Except  thou  stay  the  upraised  hand 
Which  in  this  time  and  in  this  land 
Would  curse  thy  brow  with  Cain's  vile  brand ; 

Except  thy  foot,  O  giantess ! 

Comes  down  in  ire,  stern  for  redress, 

As  raise  thy  arms  in  tenderness ; 

Except  thou  bid  each  creed  and  church  : 
"  Here  is  no  room  where  Hatred's  torch 
For  bloody  strife  and  tears  may  search  ; 

"  But  in  this  realm  of  wide  expanse 
Reigns  Liberty's  deliverance 
In  panoply  of  Tolerance ! " 


EPITOMA  JUDAICA. 


"Behold  in  marble  chiselled  the  ideal 7" — PART  III.,  p.  197. 
EZEKIEL'S   STATUE   OF   RELIGIOUS   LIBERTY. 


DEDICATORY   ADDRESS 

^  T  THE  ERECTION  IN  PHILADELPHIA,    1876,   OF 
EZEKIELS  STA  TUE  :  RELIGIOUS  LIBERTY. 

PART  FIRST. 

THE    themes     immortal    sung    by    bards 
have  been 

Of  glorious  nations  and*heroic  men ; 
And     tears    and     smiles    a    verse     has    often 

stirred, 
A    tale    of    fate   which    conquered,   loved,   or 

erred. 

For  in  all  times,  no  matter  where  and  when, 
Like  unto  birds  of  mountain,  dell,  and  glen, 
Man  sings  of  goal  attained  and  hope  deferred. 
Thus  came  these  rhymes;    if  lacking  beauty's 

grace, 
Indulge  the  nosegay,  though  in  broken  vase. 

There  lives  a  people  in  whose  very  name 
Is  centred  human  glory  and  their  shame — 


182 


EPITOMA   JUDAIC  A. 


A  people  whose  proud  records  plainly  tell 
How  earth  can  be  made  paradise  or  hell. 
This  nation,  who  has  wrought    its    own    high 

fame, 

Bright  from  the  furnace  of  its  trials  came ; 
May  I  forget  my  right  hand,  Israel, 
If  I  forget  thee — thee  to  whom  belongs 

Whate'er  is  worthy  in  these  humble  songs  ! 

9 
'Tis    near   four    thousand   years    when    there 

went  forth 

The  patriarch  who,  chosen  for  his  worth, 
Was  bid,  as  told   in  the  Old   Testament, 
Upon  his  mission  of  world-wide  extent 
To  go  and  "  bless  all  nations  of  the  earth," 
By  making  declarations  of  the  birth 
Of  Heaven's  will,  revealed  most  eloquent 
In  this  one  sentence  :  "  Adonai  Echod  !  "  * 
Which    means :     There   is   but  One,  one    only 

God. 

As  chaos  vanished  at  the  grand  behest, 
"Let   there  be  light !  "—  light,    Heaven's   gift 

the  best!— 

So  was  the  darkness  in  the  moral  world 
Into  the  abyss  of  dread  destruction  hurl'd. 

*  God  is  but  One. 


EPITOMA    JUDAICA. 


For  this  one  revelation   forms  the  crest 

Of  Abram's   unique,  precious,  grand  bequest. 

From    thence    was    Israel's    banner    wide    un- 

furl'd— 
One    God !      the     watchword     in     its    simple 

phrase ; 
One  God !   the  mission  for  all  future  days. 


The  slave  in  Egypt,  who  beneath  his  chains 
And   grievous  burdens  groaned  and   bore  his 

pains, 

Inflicted  by  the  heartless  master's  whip — • 
The    cruel   hands  that  smote    him    thigh    and 

hip- 

While  he  whate'er  is  brutal  still  sustains, 
In  spite  of  all,  the  strongest  trust  maintains. 
His  eyes  dilate,  his  convulsed  musc'lar  grip 
The    task   performs,  with  breath  of  life   near 

gone, 
Great    in    despair,    believes :      "  God    is    but 

One!" 
f 

And     Moses    came    and    saved    his    shackled 

race. 
The  freedmen  stand  on  awe-topped  "  Sinai's  " 

base, 


1 84 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 


And   there,  from  out  of  thunder,  clouds,  and 

flame, 

Eternal  truth,  the  laws  of  mankind  came. 
"  I   am   thy  God  !  "    Be  free  I    have   love  and 

grace. 
Heaven  folding  Earth,  her  mate,  in  fond  em- 

brace, 

"Amen!"  did  loud  the  universe  proclaim. 
Our  globe  turned  into  one  great  Synagogue, 
And  benediction  was  —  the  decalogue. 


"  I    am    thy    God—  One    God  !  "     This    is    the 

key 

To  all  found  subsequent  in  history. 
Complex  as  proves  the  lock  of  life,  'twill  fit 
To  ope  the  treasure  stored  in  holy  writ. 
In  secular  annals  naught  is  mystery  — 
Fiat  to  doubt!  quietus  to  sophistry! 
Science  and  reason  shall  in  judgment  sit, 
Like  mathematics,  solving  this  One-say, 
The  darkness  of  the  past,  the  light  to-day. 

Israel,  dwelling  in  fair  Palestine, 
Built  a  temple  and  its  holy  shrine, 
Slowly  and  gradually,  but  firm  stepped  on, 
Developing  the  truth  of  "  God  the  One"  ; 


EPITOMA     JUDAICA. 


85 


Oft  staggering,  erring,  clouding  the  Divine, 
Sure  paying  for  its  frequent  sins  the  fine. 
But  in  transgressing,  too,  the  work  was  done, 
For  nothing  clogs  the  wheel  of  fixed  intents: 
E'en  folly  is  one  of  God's   instruments ! 

A  chosen  people,  by  divine  decree 
Recipients  they  and  guardians  were  to  be 
Of  an  eternal  law — a  principle — a  truth  ! 
Yet   they   were    men   in  weakness,  faults,  for- 
sooth, 

And  oft  to  idols  turned  arid  bent  the  knee — 
And  with  our  vast  experience  so  do  we. 
Nor  to  become  exclusive  or  uncouth 
Were  they  elected.     Models  they  should  shine 
In  all  that's  noble,  virtuous,  good,  and  fine. 

When,   by  the  rule  of  evolution  true, 

Some  other  nations  reached  the  standard,  too, 

At  which    they  should   and   ought   partake  of 

right, 

The  knowledge  of  the  truth,  the  bliss  of  light, 
'Twas   then  the    holy  land   too  narrow  grew  : 
The  Temple  fell ;    the  Hebrew  bade  adieu 
To    home    and    sacred    shrine,    in    tears    and 

fright. 

24 


1 86 


EPITOMA    JUDA1CA. 


As  every  birth  is  wrapt  in  pangs  and  fear, 
So  men  do  enter  on  each  new  career. 

Well  may  the  wand'rer  sorrow  when  he  leaves 
His    home  and    country ;    when    he    pines   and 

grieves 
From    all   that   is   deemed   dear  and   loved  to 

part. 
Well    may  the  pilgrim  mourn  with   trembling 

heart, 

But,  knowing  what  he  loses,  not  conceives 
The    goal    before    him  ;    and    the    dream    he 

weaves 

Is  to  return  e'en  ere  he  makes  a  start. 
Hebrew,  go  forth  again  !     God's   frowns   and 

smiles 
Extend   His  will    beyond  a  few  square  miles! 

Twice  lay  Jerusalem  in  ashes.     Rome 
Engraved  in  human  blood  the  epitome 
Of  her  destructive  instincts.     Captive,  slave, 
Israel  as  a  nation  found  its  grave 
Among  the  seven  hills  ;  beneath  the  dome 
It  built  the  Coliseum.     Stone  and  loam 
Were  merciful  compared  to  Titus  brave. 


EPITOMA    JUDAICA. 


I87 


But  "  Adonai  Echod  "  remained  their  code, 
In  history  the  grandest  episode. 


PART   SECOND. 

There    is  no  standstill    in  events,  but    thought 

will  often  pause, 
Reflecting  on  the    logic  stern  of  consequence 

and   cause. 
Right    here  some  heroes  of   this  world   might 

well  a  lesson  learn — 
Those  who  oppressed  would  freedom  and  their 

independence  earn  ; 
Invincible    God's    people    were    while    Union 

there  presided  : 
The  first-best  conqueror  laid  them   low   when 

they  became  divided. 

Events    went    on,  and   very  soon   the   clash  of 
nations  came  ; 

Fierce  cohorts   fell   upon  cohorts ;    the  world 
shook  in  her  frame. 

The  Hun  against  the  Roman  struck,  the  Nor- 
man 'gainst  the  Hun  ; 
• 

The  Teuton,  Anglo-Saxon,  all  in  battle's  circle 
spun. 


i88 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 


From  one  end  of  the  continent  of  Europe  to 

the  other, 
Each    tribe   and   clan   seemed    bent   upon   his 

neighbor's  life  to  smother. 

And  when    the  clash  of  armor  ceased,  Rome 

was  no  more,  nor  Greece  ; 
New  rulers  occupied  the  thrones,  new  thoughts 

came  with  the  peace. 
An    humble     child    of    Nazareth,    of    Jewish 

parents  born, 
A    martyr    on  the    crucifix,    wreathed    with    a 

crown   of  thorn — 
He    preached    the   law,  he    taught    reform,  to 

worship  the  Creator ; 
He  died  the  death    at   Roman  hands,  as  died 

with  them  the  traitor. 

Meek,  simple,  loving  words   his   were,  full    of 

God's  spirit  each, 
In  different  terms  but  self-same  sense  as  Law 

and  Prophets  teach. 
His    followers  were    few  at   first,  but    soon   in 

numbers  swelled, 
And    then  increased    to  multitudes    that  were 

unparalleled. 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 

But   as   they    grew,  his   thoughts,  his    words, 

his  labors  were  deserted  ; 
They   changed    the    teacher    to    a    God:     his 

mission  was  perverted. 

At    least    so    thought    the  Jews ;  and  so  they 

think  this  very  day. 
One  God  for  them  was  well  enough  in  whom 

to  trust,  to  pray. 
One    only    God — no    Trinity — is    what     their 

Scriptures  teach  ; 
Let    whosoever    dare    this    faith,     yet    unim- 

peached,  impeach. 
And  since  they  would   not  join  the  crowd  as 

followers  and  suitors, 
They    were    accused    and    soon    decried    the 

Saviour's  persecutors. 

The  new  creed  met  vicissitudes  and  suffered 

martyrdom, 
From  under  which  a  cause  grows  strong  and 

never  does  succumb. 
Had   men  but   learned   the  lesson  then,   what 

tolerance  should    be — 
"  Do    unto    others    as    ye    would    that    others 

do  to  ye  !  " 


RPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 

But   once    their   trials    changed    to    power,    in 

hamlet,  town,  and  city 
They    placed    their    feet   upon    the    necks   of 

others  without  pity. 

What  then   was  done  and   there   was  done  it 

harrows  heart  and  soul, 
In  Christ's  name  and  religion's   name  all  o'er, 

from   pole   to  pole. 
The     curse    again    went    forth     from     Rome, 

launched   out  the  blasting   cue : 
"  Move  on  !   move  on  !  forever  on  !  proscribed 

and   outcast  Jew. 
Like    Cain,    find    never    rest,    nor    peace,    nor 

place   to   live,  nor  shelter. 
Move    on !     Who    finds    thee     has   permit    in 

Hebrew   blood  to   welter." 

"Move    on!"     shrieked    Italy,    "Move    on!" 

in  her  intensest  strain. 
"  Move    on  !  "     Spain   echoed     shrill,     "  Move 

on  !  "     O   cruel,   cruel   Spain  ! 
France,     Germany,     and     Britain     cried,    and 

every   petty   prince  : 
"  Move  on,  Jew,  move  !    no  matter   how    you 

suffer,   cry,   and   wince." 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A.  19! 

Such    horror,    devilish    outrage    fill     that    pe- 
riod's blood-stained   pages, 
Such  misery,   barbarity — well  are  they   called 
"Dark  Ages!" 

Behold  this  tableau :  On  his  knees,  the  eyes 
raised  up  on  high, 

As  if  imploring  Heaven  and  man  against  such 
tyranny  ; 

Each  feature  speaks  of  agony — the  hands 
clutched  in  his  hair ; 

Wife,  children,  crouching  by  his  side,  a  pic- 
ture of  despair. 

The  Jew  moves  on,  forever  on,  and  hither, 
thither  wanders, 

Still  trusting  "Adonai  Echod  !  "  —  a  faith  he 
never  slanders. 

Like  hunted  game  the  Israelite  seeks  refuge 
in  the  caves ; 

He  loses  all — no  matter,  if  the  scroll  of  law 
he  saves. 

There  is  no  war  but  that  recoils  upon  his 
head  a  scourge, 

No  peace  is  made  but  brings  him  near  anni- 
hilation's verge. 


192 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 


Well    might   he   sing  in    David's    words,  with 

tones  that   sadly  quiver : 
"  How  long,  O    Lord,   before  Thou    wilt  Thy 

stricken  ones  deliver?" 

Somehow  submissively  they  lived  and  patient- 
ly .endured. 

They  prayed,  they  learned,  they  worked,  they 
hoped,  but  ne'er  their  creed  abjured. 

No  retaliating  hand  they  raised  through  cen- 
turies of  woe — 

Who  ever  knew  a  Jew  to  take  revenge  upon 
his  foe  ? 

To  "  Adonai  Echod  "  belongs  the  judgment ! 
so  no  wonder 

Fanatics,  priestcraft,  tyranny,  not  Israel, 
went  under. 


PART    THIRD. 

The  nightmare-dream,  the   terror,  all  is  o'er  ; 
Changed   are   the    passions   which    had   ruled 

of  yore  ; 

The  storms  that  raked   humanity  are  past; 
From   out   of   darkness    light   breaks   forth   at 

last. 


• 


1 


EPITOMA    yUDAlCA. 


Ik 


Free    breathes    the     lover   of    his     race    once 

more ; 

Intolerance  is  smitten  root  and  core. 
The    ship    of    state    has    ''Progress"    for    her 

mast; 

A  flag-  she  flings  out  at    her    topmost  staff, 
Won  by  the  press,  and  steam,  and  telegraph. 

Miraculously  these  noble  powers  have  wrought; 
All  that's  humane  is  in  close  contact  brought. 
Hate,  prejudice,  the   rule   of  sword  and  fist, 
No   more  can   in   our  century   exist. 
Well  are  the   battles  of  enlight'ment  fought ; 
The    victory     belonged    to    God    and    human 

thought ! 

Chief  adjutant  has  been  the  scientist — 
Who   would   have   prophesied  it?    Rome  and 

Spain 
In   this  great   revolution   led  the   main! 

For   while   their  savage  inquisitions  yet 
The  deadly  instruments  of  torture   whet 
'Neath  which  their  life-blood  heretics  to  spurt, 
The  victims  to  convince  thus  and  convert- 
Columbus  brave  his  ships  and   sailors  met, 

And  westward  ho!    his  sails  of  empire  set. 

25 


194 


EPITOMA  JUDAICA. 


A  world  he  found,  compared  to  which  inert 
The  old  one  should  become  —  America,  thee  ! 
Creation's  pearl  !  God's  home  for  liberty  ! 

Nor  came  it  all  at  once  !  Tis  true,  they  say  : 
"  The  laws  of  Heaven  slowly  work  their  way  !  " 
The  ocean,  when  upheaved,  shows  long  his 

might, 

And  morning  dawns  but  gradually  from  night. 
It  would  take  volumes,  not  a  roundelay, 
To  record  the  slow  gait    of   reason's  sway- 
How    people   learned   to  see  the  wrong   from 

right, 

How  sages  tackled  folly,  crime,  and  fault, 
How  men  of  iron  nerves  dared  to  revolt. 


All  hail  to  France  !     The    foremost  torch  she 

lit; 
Headlong   she   dared   the   strongest    blow    to 

hit 

By   which  the  hold  of  tyranny  was  rent 
From  all  of  Europe.     The  whole  continent 
With  trembling  saw  the  bold,  unswerving  grit, 
And  slow  but  surely  imitated  it, 
Decreeing,  'midst  the  despot's  fear  and  awe, 
Mankind's  equality  before  the  law  ! 


E  PI  TO  MA     JUDA  1C  A . 


195 


All  hail  to  Germany,  too,  the  fatherland  !- 
Though    now    once    more   she    hurls    the    fire- 
brand 
Against    her    children.     She    will    bewail    ere 

long 
Her      latest     crime,     her      monstrous,     insane 

wrong. 

Still  shall  her  sons  erect  and  proud  yet  stand. 
From  out   this  crisis  grows   a    free-born   band 
Of  brothers,  singing  the  sublimest  song. 
A  free  republic  will  all  creeds  combine  : 
"  Eine  feste  Burg  "*  and  "  Wacht  am  Rhein  !  "  f 

All  hail,  Britannia,   free  and  noble  isle ! 

We    have    forgot    our    wrongs     beneath     thy 

smile. 
Since    "  Magna    Charta"    came  jto    rule    and 

bless, 

Like  lightning  flew  oppression  and  distress. 
Her  sentiments  are  truth,  her  law  no  guile; 
She  knows  but  citizens — one  vast,  great  pile, 
Secure  beneath  her  reign.     In  tenderness 
God    bless    her!    and    clear    that     last     stern 

frown ! — 
May   [reland,  too,  be  jewel  to  her  crown ! 

*  Rock  of  Ages,     f  Guard  of  the  Rhine. 


Ike. 


196 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 


All  hail,  too,   Italy!    All  hail,  too,   Spain! 
Though    ye     have    caused    our   tears    to    flow 

like  rain, 

And  slow  e'en  now  to  follow  in  the  wake 
Of    roads     which     more     enlightened     people 

take. 

Ye  may,  with  Russia  and  few  others,  strain 
Against  the  spirit  of  the  time.     'Tis  vain  ! 
Beware,    lest     Heaven,    outraged,    crush     and 

shake 

You,  dome  and  pit,  and  lay  you  in  the  dust ! 
For  in  our  days  men  will  be  free,  and  must ! 

Yes,  hail,    accursed    Russia!     Sure  as  fate 
Full  retribution  will  come  soon  or  late, 
For  every  drop  of  blood,  for  every  tear, 
For  every  anguish,  every  cry  of  fear 
From    orphans    and     from     widows    sent     on 

High; 

For  murder,   outrage,    violence,  and,  fie! 
Child-slaying — in  our  days,  fresh  in.  our  ear — 
As  infamous  these   deeds  are  in  our  time, 
Will    sevenfold  seven  Russia   wail   the  crime. 


While   "  Glory!    Hallelujah!"   loud   and   long, 
Unto   America  shall  be  the  song: 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 

The  Centenarian  Republic  live ! 
Cheers  upon  cheers  united    let   us   give  ! 
Youngest  of  the  nations  !    to   thee  belong 
The   honors  that  thy  founders  skyward  flung, 
The   banner  of  our  great  prerogative, 
The  declaration  of  our  liberty  : 


ALL    MEN    ARE 
FREE ! ! ! 


INDEPENDENT!     EQUAL! 


!  f 


In   this   rich    panoply   of  manhood   decked, 
The   Jew   again   stands  forth,  restored,    erect. 
He     may     untrammelled     worship    God,    the 

Great, 

With   others,   as   their  consciences   dictate. 
Men,  citizens,   regardless   creed   or  sect, 
May   loyal   live,   believe  as  they   elect, 
Without   reproach   to  fellow-men   or.  hate. 
Our   Hebrew   people  act  as  prototypes  ; 
Hew   down   the  arm   raised   'gainst  the    Stars 

and   Stripes  ! 

Behold  in   marble  chiselled   the  ideal 

Of   all    we    suffered,    passed,   and     loved,   and 

feel: 

"  Religious   Liberty  !  "   with   eyes  on  high, 
Eagle  and  snake  "  Intolerance  crushed"  imply. 


EPITOMA    JUDAIC  A. 


"""^ 

7% 


I 

/ 


The   Innocent  makes  by  her  side  appeal 
That  light   may   future,    better  days  reveal. 
And  if  you   ask   us   for  the    reason   why, 
Then   thus  be    told  :    Fast  comes  the  reign   of 

God 
When  mankintf  owns  it— ADONAI  ECHOD  ! 


THE   END. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


